


Return

by sentimentsandsemblance (orphan_account)



Series: Separate to Return [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sentimentsandsemblance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving out of home for independence is a great experience, but what happens when you are wounded up with an unknown man in your new apartment with someone you never wanted as a roommate or potential lover?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure and Unlikely Meeting

0.1

The train sped. That was what it all did. Move. Leaving the passengers no chance to witness and grasp the beauty that has been laid outside. Stiles had his ears plugged, with his eyes fixated at the window, not minding of the images whizzing. His indifference was only mere and the last he could think was the conversation he and his dad had while he was waiting for the said train's arrival. Bittersweet, yes but to live in Beacon Hills after acquiring his degree for the remaining of his life was a big no-no for the Sheriff. Losing his mother was harsh in reality and his grief was all focused through one medium, his studies. His dad, despite lacking a woman figure in the family, he did not need to search far as Stiles had taken the mantle that his mother had untimely abandoned due to her illness and eventual death. That was all the sheriff needed to know that Beacon Hills is where his son was going to spend his life in. He never said it, though it wasn't necessary, but he had always envisioned his son that he would achieve and surpass himself as a sheriff. Sure, Stiles would pass of as a sheriff no doubt, but the world- in his eyes- had bigger plans for the 21 year old. Stiles always wanted a sense of adventure and that was not an issue as Stiles was intelligent, second top in his class, just a few points shy of Lydia Martin, his former high school crush that had enrolled herself in MIT with a course in Mathematics. Stiles had always known it was a fruitless attempt to even get a crack on Lydia, not because she was mean or heartless, but she had little to settle for someone as hyperactive and annoying (as they call it) as Stilinski, and Stiles couldn't blame her. ADHD had its ups and down.

“Dad, I'll be fine. I mean, it's New York. And it's Stiles Stilinski you're looking at,” said Stiles with a bravado that was endearing.

“OH, you don't have to tell me that. I know you'll survive there. Just remember to call me once in a while,” said Sheriff Stilinski.

“Jeez, dad I will, alright? I haven't boarded the train, heck the train hasn't even arrived and you're already missing me. You sure you wanna let me go to the city?” asked Stiles in a teasing tone.

“It can't hurt to try as a father, right?” retorted his father.

The railroad was still vacant and Beacon Hills never really was a prosperous area, unlike New York and few have really gone to New York for the purpose of settling in. Most would go to the Big Apple for the purpose of visiting or shopping for a commodity that could only be procured in the said city. Stiles and his father stood in a comfortable silence and the sound of the train's arrival was imminent as the serene ambiance was suddenly replaced with chiming of the bell, signalling the train's arrival. Stiles stared at his father, and his father with the same expression as his son. Sheriff Stilinski could not more proud of his son's endeavours.

Without a second thought as a father, he hugged his son tightly, knowing that it would be a while that he would see his son once more and whispered, “Your mom would be so proud of you,”. The stinging of tears that crept to Stiles' eyes were unmistakable and all Stiles could do was mentally nod at the statement. He hugged his dad fervently, hoping that homesickness was just like any other sickness, a temporary one. “Make sure you visit for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and call me when you have arrived safely, got it?”

“Yeah, and make sure you lay off the bacons and stick to greens.” replied Stiles. The sheriff rolled his eyes but smiled at this son's ability to love and care despite the obstacles that had hurdled in their lives. “I love you, dad.” 

“Love you too, kiddo.”

The train arrived and it's doors opened, and as Stiles grabbed his luggages to board the train, he could not help but savour one more, if not, last hug from his beloved dad. This was the farthest that they had been apart and it was going to be hard notwithstanding. He finally board the train and found a vacant seat. The train did hold some passengers but the amount of people in the train was almost little to none. He placed his luggages carefully, and with a cursor perusal, settled down in a seat closest to the window where he could see his father one his apparent last time. He waved at his dad and he could see his eyes water. He knew that it wasn't final but it was just a rare moment to see his dad cry, not since his mother's death. He waved back with a smile that was almost marred with sadness and longing. The train whistled, indicating it's imminent departure. The train moved and his dad stood rooted from where he stood, and all Stiles could do was wave incessantly at his dad, redolent to the movie Titanic where most relatives would stay tight-knitted. It was remittable, as the saying goes, blood is thicker than water. The image of his father soon escaped his vision and Stiles settled back into his seat, with his heart commixed with nervousness, plaintiveness and excitement.

Stiles settled in his seat, but not without exploring the interior of the cargo he had baorded. Nothing really captured his attention, and he returned to his seat with his legs in a cross legged manner, trying to make himself at home, even though he wished he was. He had his ears plugged with earphones, hoping to make entertainment a constant during his ride to the Big Apple. The music, along with the peace that had filled the atmosphere, made his eyelids weigh heavier than cinderblocks and eventual he fell asleep.

The halt of the train and the loud, high pitched whistle of the train woke Stiles up. For a moment, he could not remember his surroundings and soon rubbed his eyes, hoping to minimize the effect of the bright light that assailed his eyes. He took a moment to recover and gain his bearings before standing up, stretching, hoping to remove any discomfort from his makeshift siesta spot. He removed his earphones and coiled it carefully before tucking it in his pockets along with his phone. He collected his luggages and then alighted the train. The place was crowded but surely it was for a different purpose. They were ostensibly more people returning to their homes from New York rather than going to the said state. 

Moving out of the place, he had fished his phone out of his pockets, hoping to call Scott McCall, who seemingly had prepared an apartment for him. It had been a while since he had met his best friend. He had left New York a year after high school graduation to study as an intern for veterinary. His love for animals was obvious and when he had been offered the chance to test the waters, he knew it was chance not to be missed. When Stiles had conferred of his intentions of staying in New York to start his life to Scott, he squealed in excitement and had proceeded to find a spot for him to stay. The rent wasn't a hassle, and Stiles was more than ready to leave and settle before finding a job.

He scrolled through his contacts with a huge flick of the thumb, and tapped Scott's name, immediately dialling his number. He waited for a few rings and soon heard the connection being made.

“Stiles! Have you arrived?” asked Scott.

“No, the train is experiencing problems and we're stuck here in the middle of nowhere. Of course I have arrived, you doofus,” deadpanned Stiles.

Scott laughed at the remark. Oh, how he had missed the sarcasm that flowed out his Stiles' mouth easily. “I bet. Sorry I couldn't be there though, Stiles. I had been called to handle some stuff at the veterinary,” reasoned his best friend.

“Nahhh,” scoffed Stiles, “So where do I go from the train station?”

“Your apartment,” replied Scott.

“Really? I had no idea. Jeez, for a minute there, I thought I was already standing at my apartment. The concrete floor is just oh so comfortable. You should try it sometime,” replied Stiles sarcastically. Scott laughed at the reply before advising him to take a taxi, but not without texting him the address of his new place. He hung the phone up with words from Scott that he will meet Stiles in the evening, where his shift ended. He soon boarded a taxi, which was almost indispensable, as New York was flooded with taxis. With the coordinates he received, arriving at the destination all within good time. He paid the taxi driver and proceeded to retrieve his belongings from the boot of the car, with the help of the driver. He gave a smile and nod in appreciation after laying the luggages on the concrete pavement. He soon entered the building, enquiring the landlord-who was not the nicest of the bunch- of his apartment. Settling with his rent and garnering the keys-who could care less to tell him of the keys' purposes- Stiles, with his belongings, headed to the elevator, and soon pressed the button that led him to his newfound space. 

After a few tries of finding which key was the one to open the door, he slid the key, his breath quivering in nervousness and excitement as he turned the lock. He opened the door and was met with a lunge by a figure that Stiles did not have time to discern the figure's appearance. The luggages tumbled and Stiles was writhing, struggling to be out of the body that was hovering over him.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Stiles.

“Surprise!” said the figure. With his vision returning, he saw the unmistakable black wavy hair, and smile that could even charm the ladies in a high school. Scott.

“Dude,” started Stiles, “I like to feel my feet on the ground, if you don't mind,” said Stiles with a smile plastered on his face. 

“Oh, right!” said Scott sheepishly before standing up and assisting his best friend to be on his feet. He soon shifted his luggages and then placed the said possessions on the couch. The space was big, enough to fit four people. The room was adorned with decorations that could match a loft and the walls were decorated with paintings, acrylic ones at that, and place was furnished with other facilities that most people settling in New York would dream to have. Stiles was extremely fortunate, as his mind could advise. “C'mon, I'll give you a tour around the place,”

The place was furnished with an assortment of facilities and the bathroom was not so shabby as well. It was small, but it was enough for him. Besides, it was only meant for him. And me, only. The place was already prepared with the necessary toiletries and the bed was all the more satisfying. It was a queen size and the sheets were fluffy, and Stiles could not wait to bask in its softness. Scott assisted with Stiles in placing the belongings and clothes neatly inside the wardrobe. After settling and chatting whilst arranging, Stiles opted to explore around the place, and with all rooms explored, there was only one room that wasn't scrutinized. He turned the knob and realized the door would not budge. It was locked.

“This room's locked,” said Stiles.

“Don't look at me,” said Scott while shrugging his shoulders, “Maybe one of the keys can unlock it?” suggested Scott. With a nod of agreement, Stiles left to retrieve the keys that was still lodged in its' keyhole. After few tries, none of the keys would unlock the door, further confusing the pair. “Did the landlord tell you anything?”

“Nope,” said Stiles with a pop of the 'p'.

“Oh well, not that it matters, right?” reasoned Scott. Stiles gave an imperceptible nod, ignoring momentarily the mysterious door for the moment but it had certainly piqued his interest. He'd be sure to examine it once more. The two settled for a while, with incessant chattering filling the void. They soon discussed of Scott's internship, with him happily explaining and weaving tales of his activities. Stiles listened attentively, and was grinning ear to ear to hear of his relationship with his friend and partner, Isaac Lahey. They were both in the same faculty, and they hit right off, with Scott being appreciative of his companionship during the two years he had been performing his internship. Dr. Deaton, who was his mentor, had taught Scott and Isaac exhaustively of the procedure that ought to be discharged. Dr. Deaton, as Scott outlined, was quite the laid back individual. His cool demeanour was admired in the faculty, and Scott wished to see him crack in stress but in the course of his internship, he always had a complaisant and chill look about work. 

Stiles couldn't wait to begin his life in the city, with Scott mirroring his excitement. After saying words of goodbye to Scott, and assurance that he will contact and visit his best friend as frequent as possible, Stiles sat down on the couch and lounged, processing the simplicity of his apartment. His apartment. He was giddy about the place and after having a moment of ecstasy, he fished his phone out of his pockets, unlocking his phone and went to contact his dad, whom he had forgotten to call upon his arrival.

The dial soon connected after the second ring, “Hello?” The conversation was a non-stop process. Stiles babbling about his arrival was all the things his father need to hear. Safe and sound. He explained about his arrival, along with his tour given by Scott in his new apartment. His father was used to the jabbering. All he cared and wanted from his family is Stiles' safety guaranteed. Ever since his relapse with alcohol after his wife's death, he knew that Stiles needed a parental figure, even though Stiles had actually grew to become independent and self-reliant during his adolescence. He felt a sense of accomplishment towards having a wife who was able to impact something meaningful and deep towards his son in spite of her death. Either that, or it was his ADHD that had kicked in.

The call then ended with Stiles basically advising – or as the Sheriff put it, harassing – him to adhere to the diet regime that Stiles had importunately gave him. “Love you, dad. Don't miss me too much,”

“You wish, son,” said the Sheriff with an impassive tone, “Love you, too,” before hanging up the line. Stiles placed the phone down on his lap, and gave a sigh and took a moment to process the entire day with. It was overwhelming, to say the least, but gratifying and eye-opening regardless. His mind starting pacing, like cogs in a machine, about his schedule for the next day.

He got up from the sofa that he had lounged for a companionable amount of time and headed to the shower, but not without grabbing a fresh towel from the wardrobe that he had neatly arranged with Scott. Once he had arrived in the bathroom, he stripped his clothing and dumped the used garments into the bin that was readied in the bathroom. Stepping into the cubicle, he turned the knob and the spray was extremely soothing. The warm water that cascaded off his lean body relieved every hidden tension and Stiles could control the sough of appreciation escaping his lips. Ensuring that he had cleansed his body of impurities, he grabbed the towel and dried himself meticulously and went over to brush his teeth. It was a little over 8 in the evening, but the train ride that he had utilized most of his day's time sleeping did not really provide much comfortability. He just felt like it was time to hit the hay.

Grabbing the clothes that were unpacked, he donned only a white wife beater and a pair of black boxers, and basically leapt into the softness of the bed provided. He was jubilant. For the first time, he was free, and the bed was an extreme soft landing (pun intended) from the turbulence he had gone through his life. He stared at the ceiling, and soon his eyes were lulled into the darkness. 

~RETURN~

He returned home with a key slid in its keyhole. He was exhausted. Working almost 9 to 5 in a place where one of your co-workers practically pester you can be extremely taxing. He never intended to work at a place like it was. He closed the door, locking it with the deadbolt etched onto its wall, and moved off to his room. He slid the key into his bedroom, and then closed the door behind him. He sighed in contentment as he saw the bed eagerly waiting to be reclaimed by his owner. Although excited, he could not bear to be laying in bed with the outdoor stench that had permeated on not only his clothes, but his body as well. Giving a huff of irritation, he grabbed his towel, left his room and then finally proceeding his footsteps to the bathroom.

Giving the light switch a flick with his finger, he went inside and unclothed his odoured clothes before settling it in the basket haphazardly, giving a rat's ass whether it entered the basket or not. He entered the cubicle, and turned the knob and welcomed the patter of the warm shower. He gave a sigh of relief and bliss when he felt the tension of his body dissipating, as if he was in a spa, which he would not mind going to one day anyways. Grabbing a loofah, he was exhaustively cleaning his body, targeting every nook and cranny of his Adonis like body. He stood there for a moment, letting the shower land and drip of his body. He soon turned the knob of the shower off, not wanting the water to grow cold and give an unsettling feeling to his body when he hits the hay.

Drying himself scrutinizingly, he tied the towel around his chiseled waist, before brushing his teeth, and leaving the bathroom with the lights turned off withal. Walking back to his bedroom with a fairly exhausted addled mind, he rummaged through his wardrobe and then donned a pair of sweatpants, going commando. With a wife beater worn and documenting his body, he laid on top of the bed, and could feel himself relax at the contact between the fabric and the skin of his body. Staring at the ceiling above him, he let the blank canvas of a wall hypnotize him to his deep sleep.

~RETURN~

The sunlight was shining radiantly, bringing cognition to Stiles' senses to a wake. His eyelids fluttered at the onslaught of rays and his hand involuntarily covered his eyes, hoping to obviate the rays from blinding him. He groaned, with his inflection indicating his reluctance to leave his new bed. The softness of the bed was reminiscent of a devil, attempting to entice Stiles' mind to sleep once again. He gave a quick a glance towards the digital clock, with the object flashing the time in red. It was thirteen minutes past nine. I slept that late, he thought to himself. Figures if the exhaustion was patent. The excitement and nervousness must have tired him as a whole from yesterday.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, before getting himself of the devilish bed. He paced around his room and grabbed his towel. He could feel, no, he knows that his hear was in a frazzled mess. He left the room and headed to the kitchen. He decided to prepare breakfast, albeit, he wasn't sure that the refrigerator was filled with anything anyway. He had not looked into it upon his arrival yesterday. Opening it, his eyes bulged at the sight. The interior of the fridge was filled with a miscellany of foods, ranging from dairy products to the greens that were kept in a section of the refrigerator.

He withdrew some eggs, bacon and milk that was placed in the fridge, with his leg kicking the fridge door, closing it. He laid the ingredients on the kitchen counter, and strode around the kitchen, perusing the cabinets and quickly took the skillet. Excitedly, he turned the stove on, and poured in a meagre amount of butter and watched it melt, sizzling in the process. He grabbed the eggs, washing it, then cracking it into a bowl and battered it to a yellow concoction and poured the contents into the skillet. For the first time, he had never know how independence and cooking would work so cohesively together.

~RETURN~

He woke up, with his eyelids opening, like a blind being rolled upwards, and stared. The sleep was what he needed and looking over the clock, he sat up, only to find his senses waking to a halt. Sniffing the air, the smell of fried bacon was the first and most distinct and he could not help but feel befuddled. Throughout his time living in this apartment, he had always known that no other scents could suffuse through the air unless it comes from the kitchen. Moving out of his bed, he grabbed the nearest item that he could apply for self-defence, a bat. Opening the door minutely, he peeked out of the tiny space, his mind expectantly hoping some burglar would wait and ready himself to attack, but could only see the vase that was laid on top of a table. With the confidence coursing through his mind, although not much, he opened the door but gripped the bat loyally.

He slowly walked to the ensure that the perimeter was clear, only to find that his ear had collected the sounds of humming and sizzling of a skillet and his eyes were gripped on to the figure that was standing in front of the stove. White tee, with boxers donned, the lean body standing straight, giving him a clear view of his well defined legs. Who is he, he thought. His grip on the bat was loosened slightly, and could sense the hostility was mitigating.

He cleared his throat, eliciting a gruff, gravelly tone. If he had such imagination, he figured the unknown man's reaction could hit his head onto the ceiling. He screamed, and the spatula he had held was out of his hand, landing onto the floor haphazardly.


	2. Drunk

0.2

 

“Who the hell are you?!” screeched Stiles. He soon grabbed the rolling pin and hoped internally it was enough to defend himself.

“I could ask the same for you,” said the unknown man, “You're in my house,”

Stiles scoffed at the answer, “Nice try, dude. However, I am pretty sure that this is _my_ house. I have the keys to this place and the lease signed,” he retorted.

They exchanged glares in the silence and began were waiting for the next words to utter from either mouths. Lowering the bat, “Well, seeing as you aren't leaving anytime soon,” the man walked valiantly into the kitchen and grabbed the bacon that was laid on top of the paper towels before pulling out the chair and sitting on the table.

“What the fuck, dude!? Those are mine!” exclaimed Stiles.

The unknown man chuckled, with the bacon in hand pointing directly to Stiles, “Have you realized who bought all of these furniture?” he theorized, “I bought these all by my own money. Well, excluding your belongings and newfound lease,” he explained.

Huffing in frustration, he soon lowered the rolling pin before turning the stove off, his food thankfully had not been burnt. He laid the food onto the plate and before the unknown figure could even grab the next bacon strip, Stiles, enraged, used his hand to swat the man's hand before claiming the food with an arm, protectively safeguarding it from further consummation. The unknown man raised an eyebrow and stood up, and went to the refrigerator. Stiles did not care whether the man bought the food or not. He cooked it, therefore claiming it as his. While the man was searching through the fridge, he could see the taut waist and before he could perv on longer, the figure straightened his back, his arms now filled with some food. Closing the door of the fridge, he went over to the counter, cutting the foods himself and the silence grew thicker.

“I'm still staying,” Stiles added into the silence, clearly trying to make a statement to the man. The man did not answer, and carried on with his preparation. The silence was deafening to Stiles, obviously showing he was not fazed by the situation. Maybe deeply, but his expression was focused and also passive towards the young boy's words.

 

The chopping and sizzling was the only sounds the silence was filled with and Stiles could not help but feel unnerved by the unknown man. Standing up, “Dude, what the hell? This is my place! Gosh, here I come to start a new life and here comes a douche as a roommate,” said Stiles in a frustrated tone.

Just as the man had finished cooking, he gave Stiles the most intense glare. The consternation was evident in Stiles as he couldn't help but feel his heart beating at a rapid rate. The man walked up to him, deeper than the personal space intended and said in a tone that was worse from a normal principal would give, “One more word from you, and this place will be the last you'll ever see, clear?”

But Stiles wasn't having it. He was too stubborn to be backed down, “Your dreams dude. I just said three words,” challenged Stiles. Stiles could feel the heavy exhalation of the man's breath ghosting past his face and the underside of his chin. Warm. “Try it. My dad's a sheriff,” he added. He could feel his composure quivering when he felt the breath. His eyes were slowly drifting to the stubble that really suited him, along with his lips. His eyes were tracing the outlines of the lips and then to his eyes, with a hazel colour that was just encapsulating.

The man's movement broke Stiles' thread of thoughts, “Whatever, kid,” he muttered.

“It's Stiles, Sourwolf,” retorted Stiles but the man just kept quiet and went on to deal with his breakfast. _Two can play at the game,_ he thought. He picked his plate up and dumped them inside the sink but left them unwashed. He could feel the man's anger returning as he stared at Stiles with eyes that could burn holes in his skull. Childish move, yes, but Stiles always had reasons to do things and in his hopes, maybe irking him to no end could be incentives to get him moving. He wouldn't have enough money to move again, and he was sure hell not going to be the one leaving the house empty-handed. As much as he wanted to feel terrified, he kept the indifference going and preambled to his bedroom, and left the said room with a towel in hand to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, he knelt down and sat on the bathroom floor. _Should have known it was too good to be true,_ thought Stiles to himself. The luxury he experienced barely 24 hours ago was a mere fabrication. He couldn't blame Scott for that, not like he had any knowledge about it. There were only two people he could blame, the idiotic of a landlord and himself. Himself for not being circumspect enough to ask if the apartment was inhabited or not and the landlord for being a surly asshole.

This is Stiles Stilinski. He wasn't going to let some man or a landlord that resents his job being the deterrent of his life. Standing up, he went to shower and his mind was empowered with the small motivation that his mind had mustered. In his definition, ADHD is not gonna be stopped by emotions nor people's presence. Satisfied with his cleanliness, he left the bathroom with the towel wrapped snugly around his waist and opened the door, only to be met by shock as the man was standing in front of the door with his arms folded.

 

~RETURN~

 

Derek didn't see the sense of standing outside the bathroom door. He felt like he perv waiting for Stiles outside the bathroom. He wanted to affront him for not washing the dishes, but was stumped by the sight before him. Stiles wasn't the most fittest person unlike him, but he certainly was lean. No abs, but his torso was defined enough. Derek never had anything for moles, but upon seeing the body – and eventual face – of Stiles, he felt a fetish was already at its incipience. The moles were like paint being scraped by the toothbrush with a small cardboard box, splattering and making the moles sporadic. His eyes then surreptitiously went over to his waist, and Derek could feel himself being lost in ecstasy. The waist didn't have a visible V-line but had enough definition to go to his nether region and the light trace of hair, was just a one way ticket to find his demise.

“Ummm.... Never thought I get to say this, but,” started Stiles, “Like what you see?” he ended with a smug smirk plastered on his face. The question definitely threw him off, and his awed expression was replaced with a scowl. Without a word, he left the vicinity and returned to his room. Huffing indignantly, he went over to collect his towel, and showered once he found the coast was clear. Stiles' abrasive behaviour was starting to get the best of him and he had to control the desire to rip his throat out, possibly with his teeth.

 

~RETURN~

 

Stiles entered his room, clearly impressed with his one liner. He could hear the shower being turned on and inhaled as he went over to the wardrobe to collect his clothes. He donned outdoor clothes, and inhaled once more, with realization dawned on him that it was job hunting day. A college degree is great, but to find a job? That was like going through high school all over, devoting 12 hours for money. Just money. Grades are now substituted for money.

Grabbing his phone, he stumbled upon a text from Scott that he will be at _his_ apartment in 20 minutes. Grabbing his wallet from the nightstand, he left his room, and found the area devoid of Sourwolf's presence. He needed to deal with the issue of his so-called roommate, and with only 20 minutes to spare, he figured it'd be enough to deal with the slob of a landlord.

 

~RETURN~

 

“No,”

Stiles looked surprised, which was no surprise. The landlord, whom Stiles thought may had a bad day from their last encounter, was actually surly by nature. Composing himself, he said, “I'm sorry, but you don't get it. There's another person living in _my_ apartment. I was given the prospect that my apartment would be vacant, but it's not. It's been taken. By an unknown man,”

“Look, kid. I don't care and honestly, it's Mr. Hale you have to deal with, not me,” said the landlord, and with that finality, he left and retreated to his office, not heeding nor caring towards Stiles' predicament. “Look on the bright side, kid. If anything happens, he could be your lifeline,” he added. As Stiles was about to make his exit, “Unless, you got some money to handle that?” he asked greedily.

Huffing in annoyance and rolling his eyes, he left the building and was glad to finally see Scott, who had just arrived at the area.

Noticing the annoyance embossed on the face of his best friend, “Dude, you okay?”

“Yea, I'm alright,” he replied. A short silence between them was subsequent until, “Nope, I'm not,”

“What happened?” asked Scott. The total obliviousness that Scott had exuded was enough to tell Stiles that he too, had no knowledge regarding Mr. Hale AKA Sourwolf living in the confines of his new apartment. With the incident regarding the door yesterday, the evidence only gets more asserted. Scott had nothing to do with it.

“Some dude apparently lives in my apartment before I arrived,” explained Stiles tersely.

“Dude, that's rough. Did you talk to the landlord?”

“Yeah,” he said, didn't help much. Son of a bitch for a landlord didn't care at all,” he rejoined.

“Let's just get you a job to get the whole thing out of your system, alright?” suggested Scott. With a shrug, they went over to numerous places and Stiles had become completely indecisive of the job offers that were furnished in the cities. Most of the jobs pays really well, but time was also a huge factor in the process. He soon came across a shop that did apparels and Stiles, who was still mulling about the situation decided to contemplate on the offers before any decision could be made.

“Dude, the pay is enough for the rent and the groceries combined,” said Scott. Both of them were now in Starbucks, with offers now swimming in Stiles' mind. He could give a month to think about it, and the interviews were all arranged on different dates. The prospect and contingency of having a stable income was almost getting the best of Stiles' mind. Almost.

“I suppose they'll work, but I don't want to work,” said Stiles petulantly, “I WANT FREEDOM!” he exclaimed unabashedly, not caring about the surprised, annoyed and amused looks from the public. Scott's face was as red as a tomato and Stiles' being the gentleman he was, sat down and moved on from the situation like it never occurred at all, “But seriously, I could just wait, I don't know maybe, a month or two, or forever,” commented Stiles.

“But dude, you don't have much money left. Like what, you have about enough to cover for, I don't know, two months with that savings you had since we were 15?” reasoned Scott.

“Yea, I do. All the more reason to relax for the next two months, right?” said Stiles, his eyebrows wagging in excitement.

Scott groaned in worry, but did little to stop him, “Alright, dude,”

“Hey. Don't worry so much, I have you in case I'm in a tight situation,”

“Right, my money is covered by the internship and I'm not sure how much I can proffer you,” answered Scott.

“Well, let's live in the now, shall we?” asked Stiles while sipping his coffee nonchalantly.

“I guess,” said Scott. _Your dad and my mom are so going to kill me._

 

~RETURN~

Returning home from the streets of New York had never felt so good to Stiles. Opening the door after saying his goodbye to Scott, he plopped himself onto the couch and sighed contentedly at the contact between his skin and the soft material of the sofa. _Sourwolf sure picked well in materials_ , thought Stiles. Too indolent to move, he felt his eyes shutting and let sleep overtake him.

~RETURN~

Derek returned home and saw the body that was laid onto the sofa. The body of Stiles was laid there, his mouth opened, drooling on the pillow and saliva pooling onto the surface of the pillow. As disgusting as it may be, Derek smirked in amusement. His eyes trailed to his back then to the hem of his shirt, where the nape of his back was shown. The waistband of his underwear was making Derek's pants feel tighter and as Derek quickly went over to his room, not wanting to feel anymore uncomfortable, much less awkward around the young man.

~RETURN~

The phone vibrated and Stiles immediately shot out of his slumber, letting the grogginess abate in his system. He picked the phone and answered with a lazy drone in his cadence, “Hmm?”

“Dude, you free now?” asked Scott.

“I guess, what's up?”

“I'm going to drag you to this party that Isaac's friend is hosting, it's gonna be rad,” exclaimed Scott. Stiles glanced at the clock and agreed with the plan. He hung the line up and he stretched, feeling the weariness gone in a matter of few seconds. He stood up and entered the room, picked up his towel and cleaned himself. With that done, he wore a simple blue shirt with a pair of jeans that emanated casual when he looked in the mirror. He somehow did not mind the presence of the Hale stranger, seeing that he was partially thankful he was not going to be completely lonely during his stay in New York, albeit a bit too hasty and impulsive. In the interim, he was looking forward the party that Scott was bringing him into, and he was not going to sweat the little things. He closed his door and passed the door that was occupied by a certain, brooding man.

The duo met up, after Stiles basically chastising him with the idea of Scott trying to invite the Sourwolf, as Stiles nicknamed him to join them the to the party, which basically ended up with Stilies lambasting him for being an idiot using the words, “Scott, your friendly personality is not necessary at this moment,” which was responded with more pleas from the young man, causing him to further reply, “Last chance, Scotty,” prompting the wavy hair man to pout with a side of a set of puppy dog eyes that he had mastered to perfection. But Stiles almost felt for it. Almost.

“Puppy dogs eyes or not, it won't work on me,” said Stiles while passing Broadway Street which was located a stone's throw from the apartment.

“It will take a million years for me to use those eyes on me Scotty,” said Stiles.

“It was worth a try,” said Scott with a pout.

“Mhmm, right. I'm surprised your mom still falls for it,” mused Stiles.

“What can I say? I'm a mommy's boy,”

“Mhmm, so you say, Scotty,” replied Stiles, “so you say,”

~RETURN~

The party that they have arrived was quite simple. No grand dance floor, or any stripper poles nor the presence of any hedonistic items, besides the weeds, alcohol and shishas and hookas. It was more of a lounge theme, and Stiles felt at ease that it was not some grand bash that most clubs use and recycle every night. Besides, it was nice way to throw off the sleeping spell that was still in his system. The place had bean bags and were decorated with lights that erected an air of psychedelia in the atmosphere, or maybe it was just the weed induced people talking, Stiles could not tell.

Scott had gone over to get his best friend a drink and find Isaac, leaving Stiles alone to traverse around the area. It was comfortable and was not expecting the women in the area to start hitting on him. If at any given rate, it was probably the weed and alcohol doing it's responsibility well.

Scott returned moments later, with glasses in his hands and a certain curly hair boy who had blue eyes that sparkled whenever light sources shone on it. Stiles figured his was Isaac that Scott had spoken so much about.

“Isaac Lahey,”

“Stiles,” he replied.

“Stiles? Is that a real name?” he asked innocently. _Gosh, he reminds me of Scott in a way,_ thought Stiles.

“You don't wanna know his real name,” contradicted Scott.

“Why not?” asked Isaac with a pout. _Yep, definitely a Scott here._

“His name is really hard to pronounce, let alone, even spell it.

“Amen to that,” perked Stiles.

“Oh, well. I guess we should lounge about?” suggested Isaac.

“You know it,” said Scott and Stiles in unison.

~RETURN~

Waking up to New York noises every morning and night was something Derek had accustomed for a while during his stay there. It was easy to put a mental barrier between the dissonance of the city and the peace in the room. It was a matter of practice honed to perfection and Derek was content that he was not like most New Yorkers that recently moved into the area.

But he had not in fact, prepared for the noises that filled the air outside of his room.

With his eyelids opening as fast as unwinding blinders, his ears were bleeding upon hearing the sounds of laughter and the slurring chattering that made its way into his poor ears. Not to mention the clattering and shifting of furniture that made a coherent screeches when it made friction upon the floor. Grumbling, Derek uncovered his comforter and left his room with a stern and consternated look etched on his face.

He saw the young boy – Stiles,, he recalled – stumbling every furniture that was placed around the area. He was giggling uncontrollably whenever he made contact with the furniture and pursued to even comment how evil and vile the furnitures were when they impeded his path to his bedroom. Derek had no idea whether to find the display endearing or annoying. For all he could discern, it was saddening to see. He was scowling now over the fact that someone was living in such a careless lifestyle. He was not a drinker, and he did not approve of the frittering of human souls with hedonism as custom.

Derek stood still in front of the young man when he finally bumped onto the man. He batted his eyelids at the man, as if Derek radiated light that had intense radiated brightness.

“Ah, Sourwolf,!” he exclaimed before hugging the figure carelessly. Derek grabbed the man, trying to help balance his posture but his inebriety was not reciprocating his assistance. The smell of weed and cigarettes was permeated around his clothing and Derek grimaced in disgust when his senses detected the scent.

“It's Derek,” replied Derek gruffly.

“No, it's not. It's Sourwolf. Sourwolf Hale!” he replied defiantly. Derek stifled the laugh that was fighting to escape his lips, “I wanna go to bed. Have you seen my room. It's really cozy if you get to know him,”

“Him?”

“Who's him?”

“What are we talking about?” asked Stiles dumbly.

“I'll just send you to the room,”  
“My room? I have a room?” slurred Stiles.

Rolling his eyes, Derek guided the young man to the said room and placed him onto the bed with as much care as he can muster., but Stiles was not giving the said characteristic in response.

“Hmm, soft. Is this a cloud?” asked Stiles. Without any response, Derek unbutton his pants with a blush on his face. He was thankful of the lack of brightness in his room. He was also glad of the complaisance Stiles was giving when he allowed the man to unclothe his jeans. With his boxers and shirt left, Stiles began rambling incoherent statements for a few minutes until he heard snoring. Derek looked at the man's lips parted in peace. With a small chuckle, the man tucked him into bed and left the room alone.

He returned his room and slept with a certain man in his mind.

 

 


	3. Let's Play, Sourwolf.

0.3

Stiles woke up to the sound of the buzzing of his phone. Groaning, he stretched his hand blindly, hoping his hand would be the one to grab something that resembled the shape of a phone. His fingers made contact with the phone and with his eyelids only opening minutely for little light to enter, he read the name of the caller and saw Scott's name etched onto it. Grumbling, he slid he finger to answer the incessant ringing and placed the said phone next to his ear.

“What?”

“Dude, you at home?”

“i'm on a bed, if that's what you're asking,”

“Oh, thank goodness. Isaac and I couldn't find you at the party,”

“Well, now you know where I am. Hungover and sleepy. Ta-ta,” sassed Stiles before hanging up the line. He knew Scott would not feel offended if he had done such an abrupt action towards his best friend. Besides, he never liked his sleep to be interrupted and that was that. He placed the phone back on his nightstand and continued his slumber.

~RETURN~

Derek was preparing his breakfast and had to face another day of working in the library. The bacon was sizzling and he could not contain the craving that was permeating his senses, particularly his stomach, that was aching to be fed with some great food to kickstart the day, providing the necessary energy Derek so desperately needs. He had to rearrange the furnitures that Stiles had drunkenly bumped onto here and there before preparing the aforementioned breakfast.

The phone rang and Derek picked it up, answering the line.

“Guess who!?”

“Laura. What do you want?” asked Derek in a monotone voice.

“Is that the way you should speak to your sister, Derek-bear?” asked Laura childishly.

“Don't call me that!” exclaimed Derek.

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Someone's having his time of the month,”

“Laura,” grumbled Derek.

“Anyways, I'm coming over this weekend. So, I expect some food in the fridge when I'm visiting,”

“Why the hell are you visiting?”

“Because it's February, duh?” retorted Laura, “It's my monthly visit. Don't act like you don't remember my routine. You just don't want to admit that my presence brings a smile to your face,”

Derek chuckled at the jabber. It was true, Laura was mostly the one to bring a smile to the man's face. Her personality somehow resembled Stiles in a way, but Derek dismissed that thought in his mind. They discussed Laura's time being in New York for the time being and Derek hung up the call after exchanging their goodbyes, giving Derek his space to eat his breakfast. Just as Derek was about to take his first bite of his omelette, he heard groaning from the kitchen doorway. Glancing up, he saw Stiles rubbing his eyes lazily and mumbling words that were of gibberish manners.

“Morning,” said Derek.

“Goddammit, Sourwolf. You're screaming in my ears,” said Stiles angrily.

“Sorry, I got drunk last night,” replied Derek sardonically, which received a glare from Stiles.

“That was not funny,” said Stiles, “Please tell me I didn't do anything crazy like burn the house down, or kidnap someone's cat or rambled about my boring prepubescent lifestyle or anything between those lines?” he rambled, “Or my real name?” he continued with eyes widened in realization.

 _Real name? Stiles isn't his real name?_ “No, you didn't. Except for the part where you had a great revelation that you have a room, and made every single dumb comment about the furnitures blocking your way,” said Derek with a chuckle. Stiles groaned in embarrassment before taking a seat and grabbing a bacon from Derek's plate, eliciting a growl from the man, prompting him to back his hand away.

“Alright, fine. I'll get my own. Stop being such a sourwolf now, will ya?”

“It's Derek. Not Sourwolf,”

“Not my fault introductions are hard for you,” retorted Stiles. He went to the fridge and grabbed the wrapped bacon and some eggs from it, repeating his choices yesterday. The did not talk for the rest of Stiles' breakfast preparation and Derek was already reading a newspaper. Stiles busied himself and proceeded to distract Derek with his incessant chattering that only brought snippy remarks and grumbling from the older man, to which was not given any attention to Stiles at all. Derek wondered if the world suddenly hated him and decided to land him with a male version of Laura. As if it was not enough to have one Laura, the world decided to end him up with a male version. Possibly with the contingency that both would get along. _Not in a million years,_ Derek thought.

Derek continued his aloof expression as he listened to Stiles' incessant rambling and Derek thought how much energy does this guy have in both a hangover and normal life. It was as if exhaustion did not make a single dent to his energy and could not help but say it was both annoying and shamefully cute. Placing the newspaper down, he left the kitchen with the young man all to his food and showered, not caring whether the man was going to talk to himself. He would not be surprised if he did talk to himself anyway.

Dressing up in casual clothing, the brooding man left the building, but not without receiving a goodbye uttered by Stiles, to which Derek ignored. He had plenty of time to spare and he was heading to the library with his Camaro, a beauty that he could not help but feel proud to be an owner of. The smoothness and slickness of the car itself was something many car owners would envy and kill to own for, which could not be anymore true with the level of crime in the states of United States, like Detroit and New York for example. Crimes were – a surprise factor to the eastern countries – a necessity to get a life, desperate or not.

The library was a building any New Yorker cannot ignore, no matter if one is a street walker with no future, or a graduate who just wanted the degree for the heck of it. Derek had worked there for almost 4 years since his move from Beacon Hills and he lad loved every second of his job there, to the surprise of many. Any worker that were in their twenties or thirties treasure little value of the free knowledge that was in the said building and Derek could not help but feel sorry for the state the world has plummeted to. When he first applied the job, the person who hired him – to everyone's stereotypical surprise, an elderly librarian – was skeptical in hiring him, thinking that he was just doing it as some scheme, prank or dare that someone had coerced him too, too which, that skepticism has now been abated and rid off, much to Derek's gratefulness. He loved the job and the pay was more than enough. From arranging the books on every column to reading the books that he was tasked to place in their respective shelf were moments Derek felt like the library and his room in his apartment were the only space he could call home.

The library had very little staff, which was a not shit, Sherlock to anybody reading this. Besides Derek were an elderly man who was a septuagenarian, a young man name Boyd who was in his mid twenties using his job as a way to pay his monthly apartment rents, and Kira, a young girl who was in college using the job as a medium to perform her college works and perform her tasks at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone, they say.

Derek parked the Camaro into the parking lot, greeting the security guard with a fake polite smile to him. He did not like smiling, despite being told about his habit of doing so, and every time he does so, it was only for the purpose of making sure that he was not considered a rude person or as many New Yorkers or youngsters call it, douchebags or prick. The security guard gave a wave and Derek entered the elevator, pressing the button which will lead him to the home-y and cozy space that he would spend 10 hours in, much to the content of Derek.

He punched the time card and started his shift. The staff were scattered, so it was difficult to say hello to them whenever their shift started, so formalities were skipped. Derek would walk around making sure that no offenders would tarnish the books or amenities with their food – which was prohibited – or mindless doodles and then ensured that the returned books were placed in their respective shelves. Today, it had many books returned, much to the surprise of Derek since the library was such an undervalued place anyway. Regardless, he did his job anyway.

Derek was always the last to leave the library, probably because the old librarian that had hired him thought that his demeanour would be enough to handle any troublemakers that would try to destroy public property. Derek did not mind that, since it only gave him the excuse to let him leave whenever he so desire and clean up the place before giving the okay to himself to lock the place up. He, beside his boss, were the only ones that owned the keys to the library, a privilege he could not help but gloat at.

He sat at his usual spot, which was at the information counter and read books of no specificity with his glasses propped onto his ears. Kira and Boyd only had 5 hour shifts, so Derek was all alone reading his books.

It was already 4 in the afternoon when both Kira and Boyd arrived and began their respective shift. From Derek's observation of the two of them, they used their free time quite differently. Kira would arrange and organize any unwanted and returned books before doing her schoolwork with some reference books next to her. If there were any tasks that required her assistance, she did it without complaint, like an obedient dog, though it did not seem like that since the amount of respect shared between the workers were equal and amiable, characteristically enough. Boyd, on the other hand would do the same thing as Kira does, however during free time, he would lounge around at any random space with a book in his hand. You would find him either sitting crossed legs, legs stretched out or his boy laid on the floor.

He loved the library, that was pretty much true. He enjoyed the few hours of peace that he could find throughout the day rather than being cooped up in a city filled with noises that he would like to dub as 'the city that is too late to save from noise pollution'.

~RETURN~

Stiles cleared his head for most part. He laid in bed thinking of what he had needed to do to pass his time. When someone like Stiles has ADHD, it would be nearly impossible for someone to contain his or her inhibition to stay quiet. It was like a mental patient trying to be released of his confinements in a straitjacket, and would be relentless in trying to be free of its' reins. Derek had left and it was slightly hampering that the older man left without telling him where he was heading. Not that he cared about his whereabouts, it was just his feeling that he would at least give him an extension of a tour that Scott had given him. As much as he enjoyed being in the department stores and buildings that were recognized, he was going to know the common places that the government had graciously provided since he was going to be staying here during the course of his studying. He would ask the landlord, but knowing his personality that is as fickle as any greedy sleaze, he reconsidered his options.

He tossed and turned on his bed, hoping that the small actions of his would alleviate his boredom, except that it did not. So, in return, he grabbed his phone and dialled the first person he could think of. Scott.

The line went through six rings and straight to voice mail. Groaning in disappointment, he texted him instead, asking where could he go instead of being tormented by the silence that was within his room. He soon got a quick reply from the man, who cleared the refusal of his call being answered, saying that he was in the middle of class. He further suggested that he should visit the library that was place a few streets away. Stiles' eyebrows twitched at the suggestion. It was as if he was pouring salt to his current wound by adding more silence to his mire. Texting him in thanks, he got up and dressed and left the apartment in search of the library.

~RETURN~

Scott felt uneasy in the room.

Don't get him wrong though, he loved every second of his lesson but it was slightly difficult when someone who has blue eyes and curly hair and a height that was enough to rival 2 meters would be placed in the same room. How could he concentrate when a certain crush is placed in the same room with you.

It was not love at first sight though. It was more like quirkiness at first sight. The first time they met, Scott only knew him on a friendly basis, which was no surprise since Scott was always friendly, to the point Stiles had believed that even the worst criminals, he would be friendly at. It was the little things that baffled him. From questions regarding assignments that Deaton had furnished his students to the way he bookmarks his book, it was no wonder Scott was beginning to stare at him during his lessons, to which it had resulted him becoming awkward and clumsy at certain times. It did not matter, though. The tall man certainly laughed at his awkwardness. _At least that got his attention._

It was even more befuddling when almost wherever he goes in the campus, he was there. Call him presumptuous, but it was as if the man had something for him, but he shook it off, knowing that in no way would someone want to be with a person whose awkward level was off the charts. Besides, Isaac was always flirting with almost all the ladies in the campus, which cleared his suspicion of his sexuality. He was relieved to have Stiles around, someone to distract him from all the ogling and googly eyes.

The party last night was even harder to ignore when Isaac kept following him like a lost puppy, none of which Scott complained. He did not mind it at all, but it did not abate the wave of suspicion of his sexuality since the flirting card that he kept playing was always his in hand whenever a girl would pass by and created small talk. Scott, friendly as he can be, however, turned down many of the advances that the women had tried to insinuate, which was a shocker too, he was aware of the moves the women were making on him and Isaac, only that Isaac was more open to them than he is.

He stayed at the campus with his roommate, Danny, a gay man who Scott believed to be a soul that even the devil cannot touch. He was too nice to even get mad at. Throughout his course here in New York, not once did the man ever come in to the room angry. He was always level-headed and many people loved his presence, ignoring his sexuality, something Scott wish to have when he comes out – if he had the courage to do so, that is.

Danny was reading his book when Scott entered the room and Danny gave a hum in greeting, obviously too entranced by the contents of the book. Scott settled his bag onto his bed, emptying its contents and placing it on the table. He unceremoniously placed the empty bag on the floor, not caring of its well-being. He laid on his bed and began to stare at the ceiling.

The room was small but enough to accommodate two souls inside, if not three. The walls were decorated with posters, all with random contents from movies to bands that Scott had no idea who they were. He was always out of the loop anyway. Danny, too had no idea who they belong, citing that it must have belonged to the previous owners, who graciously manage to leave the room without anything disgusting left behind. Their beds were placed on the adjacent to each other and they were placed by the walls, something that Scott loved since he could stare at the wall on one side all day and stare at the room and Danny on the other. They both were proffered with tables but were rarely used, unless an assignment that they had been neglected had become of utmost importance to complete. The room only had one window and it was placed at Danny's side of the room, something Scott wish he would dominate, but Danny came in earlier than he did. Seeing that first come, first serve was a rule many people value and the fact that Danny and Scott were too nice to begin with, it was more of a win-win situation.

Danny was different from Scott, he was more reserved and quiet, but friendly regardless. He speaks little about his family background, which Scott never pried into. One of the things that irk Scott most was his level-headedness when facing a situation, a trait that Scott really love in men. Unfortunately, for Scott he was the antipode of that. He would freak out if his assignments were not completed. Danny was smart too, leading a double life as an anonymous hacker. Scott never asked anything ill from Danny, because so far in his life, nothing pressured him to the extent of breaking into the campus' security systems. He would mostly see a student knocking and coming into their room and would request and pay for Danny's services. It was the typical kind of requests. Facebook account to computer cameras's were the usuals that many people ask of him, which resulted into two things. One, Danny's pay and two, their clients eventual break-up with their partners, something Scott cannot help but laugh at sometimes.

“Hey, Danny,” asked Scott while his eyes were still transfixed towards the ceiling.

“Hmm?” hummed Danny.

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” continued Scott absent-mindedly.

“Once, but the guy ended up with someone in MIT. Lydia, was her name or something. Water under the bridge, though,” he elaborated.

“Was it hard? For you to come out?” he asked.

“Scott,” Danny called, “Are you having a sexual epiphany?”

“No,” he said, this time his eyes trained onto Danny, who was still reading, “Maybe,” he paused before sighing defeatedly, “I don't know. Never really had a thing for women, to be honest,” he said.

“Well, I'm always available if that's what you're wondering,”

“I'll hold on to that, Mahealani,” he said before the two burst out in laughter. Sure, Danny was attractive and that was a plus side to his endearing qualities. He was nice, benevolent and all the things God probably was desperate to create a vessel that had lacked the desired qualities of his previous creation and that was how Danny was conceived, he guessed.

Scott gave a sigh before letting the siesta spell overtake him, trying to quell his thoughts of Isaac.

~RETURN~

Stiles walked down the streets of New York alone. Now that he had a proper perspective in check, he was now understanding the beauty of New York, something he had missed out on the two times Scott had brought him out on. The people were bustling, there is in no way a place in New York that is void of any human souls. They did not call it the city that never sleeps for nothing, Stiles guessed. It was not hard to find his way around New York, since technology has become a medium of essentiality to every living being in there anyway. Google was a godsend to Stiles, without it, he would be lost in his time alone.

He would have arrived at the library sooner, had it not been his fascination and excitement to explore Central Park first. Any American who had never travelled around New York for the first time would be an idiot to miss out on one of the most iconic landmark that has been hailed by all travellers. It was expansive, and if Stiles had known any better, he would have been almost lost, if the signs there were not placed for the wandering souls.

Having his desire and curiosity of Central Park satiated, he headed to the library that Scott had mentioned, and it was already half past five, which Stiles began to worry as he would have believed that the library would be closed during peak hours. However, his assumptions turned out wrong when he came across the building still available for the public to enter whenever they so desire. Stiles smiled and he climbed up the steps before entering the building. It was grand sure, but Beacon Hills never really offered anything grand in life anyway.

He entered the building and saw how scarce and nearly bare of people there was in the entire building. It was a relief too, the space was copious and he had the freedom to choose anywhere to go to have a good read and he was going to stick that way. Out of all places, the library was the only place where he could keep his lips sealed and shut. Hyperactive, yea but Stiles did not need the use of his mouth and vocal chords to vent out his energy anyway.

Browsing around cursorily, he saw the amount of books that were held in there. Every book that one could possibly need and have were placed there, and Stiles mentally praised for their need of being updated in their lexicons. However, with that advantage comes with a disadvantage as he realized that he needed to be a registered member to allow himself to have access to the books should he bring them out of their quarters.

As he walked to the mahogany table that was located in the middle of the library in a circle, mahogany wood fashion, he saw a man in black and face buried deep in his reading. As he neared the said table, he was not pleased to see Derek Hale to be sitting there. Well, he was. It gave Stiles all the more reason to have friendly conversations with him.

“Psst. Psst. Sourwolf,” teased Stiles playfully in with a whispered tone. The man look up from his book and groaned and flared his nose when he saw the mole splattered kid, “Didn't know you work here. Aren't you a little too cold to be a librarian?” he asked.

“What do you want?” asked Derek tersely.

“Got a member application form?” he asked.

Grunting in annoyance, he stood up and picked up a piece of paper and placed it on the table. He also took out a pen that was placed roughly, but not loudly on the table, clearly expressing his distaste of the boy's presence. Ignoring the advance, he picked the pen up and Derek returned to his seat.

“Psst, Derek. Can I just write Stiles as my real name?”

“Why not your real name?” he asked vexedly.

“I would, but it'd be a really tongue twist for anyone to read.”

“Go ahead. And stop bothering me,” he said.

“Some librarian you are. I can feel the hospitality radiating from your words,” he retorted sarcastically, “Sourwolf,”

“Stiles,” Derek said in a warning tone. Putting his hand up in surrender, he wrote down the information that were asterisked on the paper, filing up the necessary informations before signing the form and returning it to the brooding librarian. The man took the paper and gave a laconic explanation that his card will be done in a week, to which Stiles nodded at excitedly.

“Sourwolf. What time does your shift end?”

“Why?”

“A tour around the city would be nice. Since you've been aging here for a while,”

“Excuse me?” he hissed harshly.

“Yeah, aging. You know living and basically living life as a Sourwolf. I call it aging,” he explained. Derek stared at the man coldly and sat down without saying anything, “Someone's sulking, alright. I'll just wait for you to be done then if you're not telling me,” he replied casually and insensitively. He walked around for a book and sat down in front of the information counter where Derek was sitting at, smiling contently that his presence incensed the man in scruff.

 

 


	4. Hot Damn!

0.4

Scott woke up from his nap, and saw that Danny was no longer there on his bed. Sighing, he blinked his eyes rapidly and checked the time. It was already half past eight and he was already groaning in slight pain when he felt the rumble that was awakening in his stomach. He was hungry, and he needed to eat. Danny and Scott always made sure that the fridge that they had shared were stocked, plenty for the month and the next to come. Standing up, he went over to the fridge to inspect what could he gormandize on for the night. He was hungry, yes but his appetite could not rival Stiles, who manages to stay the same shape even after eating food that was enough to feed and entire family of 5 members. How he manages to stay 147 pounds as he had stated was a confusion Scott never manages to dispel. The fridge was becoming bare, and it was pardonable too, as it was already past the month of January and stocking up has not been done since December last year. Guess the amount of parties that college students had were great distractions from their shared responsibilities. Looking inside it cursorily, he realize that none of the food satiated his appetite by looking at it, and he closed the fridge door in defeat. "Looks like pizza it is," monologue Scott.

Picking his wallet, keys and his cell phone, he left the dormitory and walked down the hall with a clear focus on getting his appetite filled. He would have invited Danny, but knowing him, he was pretty much doing something like hacking computers or in the library doing assignments or looking up reference books. He was glad that after Beacon Hills, he had Danny to accompany him to the same college with him. He was surprised too, as Scott thought that with someone with the intelligence enough to let him gain the title of a hacker, Scott would have thought that the man would at least be in some prestigious college like Harvard or Yale. He would probably ask him soon when he strikes the iron while it was still hot.

He left the building and entered the community campus, where many facilities, ranging from the printing room to their own cafe, Scott thought he would spend his night there as it was more cheap that the prices outside. It was far better than the life that was placed in high school where food was something done halfheartedly by the cafeteria ladies, or so Scott would assumed so. At least the workers in college were not dominated by oldies. Most of the students volunteer to work there with the intention of satisfying all the students taste buds and give the food experience that high schools lacked these days, even if they were not the most nutritious one. Most of the students would spend their nights in the community bar as the atmosphere was one where little crimes ranging from rape and abuse are minimal. The furthest where crime would go would be trivial fights and disorderly conduct.

He walked to the eatery and ordered himself a meal. He changed his mind about pizza, as the feeling of eating pizza alone would seem quite sombre as Scott would call it. He ordered himself some sandwiches, and a bought a can of soft drink. He paid the friendly cashier and took his order down to a seat with the use of a tray. He sat down and was about to eat when someone called out his name. Glancing up, he saw Isaac and a woman he had no recognition towards coming down his way.

"Hey, Scott. You eating all alone?" said Isaac with much enthusiasm. Nodding at the question Isaac sat opposite him, with the lady leaving the vicinity to order some food, "That's Allison. Allison Argent. Isn't she a beauty?"

If Scott could find a way to stop the clenching of his heart and the receding appetite from happening, he would have kept the friendly face on. "Yeah," he said tersely using the sandwich in his hand as a distraction and medium to prevent any unnecessary outcome from occurring. He ate as he listened to Isaac filling up the silence with random topics, with Scott replying to most of the time to ensure that Isaac did not catch any notion of him internally angry and jealous of Allison. Allison was giggling while eating her food, clearly oblivious to Scott's feelings, something he was relieved of as most women these days were not blind to emotions. He was at least grateful that he could keep a straight face.

As the chattering went on, Scott could feel his misery growing and he desperately needed to walk out and if possible, cry his heart out. However, that proved to be difficult when he Isaac invited him to the community bar, to which, Scott refused but Isaac was having none of it. Sighing in defeat, he joined the duo to the bar, which was packed unsurprisingly. He entered the bar and saw Danny, whom he was thankful to see. He was sitting by the bar, eyes fixated on the television screen, clearly attentive to the screen. He did caught glance of Scott, giving him a wave of acknowledgement before his attention was pulled back to the screen. He joined him, with introductions given out between each other. Scott sat next to Danny and eh was appreciative of the conversation that Danny brought up, a perfect medium for distracting his disturbed heart when he saw Isaac and Allison giving kisses to each other.

What Scott would find a distraction was the amount of ladies unashamedly coming up to their table, flirting with Scott and Danny. Danny was never ashamed of his sexuality, but did not find it a compulsory to reveal to the entire campus. He could see the impassivity that Scott was giving to their advances. The poor man had to turn down their advances as politely as possible, with most understanding enough to take the rejection with stride and grace. The campus did have gays, but mostly if any gay wanted to have a good time, the gay bars and pubs were their main destination.

"You okay there Scott? You seem tense," asked Isaac with a worried look on his face, his hand never leaving Allison's.

"Yeah," replied Scott with a plastered smile on his face, with his mind hoping that his act would be enough to fool the man in front of him.

"You sure? You seem tense,"

"Yeah, I am," convinced Scott, "I guess I'm just exhausted is all,"

"Alright then," he said before returning his gaze towards Allison, clearly mesmerized by the beauty that was in front of him. Scott could do nothing but watch at the PDA that was displayed so mockingly in front of him and he was not sure how he could handle it. Yeah, sure. The jealousy was evidence enough that he was harbouring feelings for a man and maybe has felt that for some time now. The public affection that Isaac was so openly doing in front of him only confirmed his suspicion of his sexuality, and no slight hint of shame oozed of it. He was positive that New York was a more accepting city, with the occasion of bigots around the streets holding up banners with homophobic slurs and religious reasons, but Scott does not feel that people like them will ever understand that it was not about the sexuality itself. It was love.

And he was terrified of losing that attraction towards the man that sparked the feeling inside him.

He returned to his dormitory with good nights exchanged between the four people. He was walking with Danny beside him and Danny was basically sparking small talks, whom Scott appreciates the light heartedness in the air. That had always been Danny anyway. He was always relaxed.

They entered the room and both stripped of their jeans, shoes and socks, leaving the duo in their boxers and shirt on. The only difference was that Scott donned a pair of shorts and brought his body to bed, heaving an elated sigh when his back made contact with the soft sheets. He stared at the ceiling and pondered what could he ever do to show to Isaac that he wants, no, needs him. He was not going to use anybody for that matter. Sure, Isaac was hot and all, but he hated the idea of misusing someone's feelings for the sake of proving a point or to make a statement. That was out of Scott's moral compass. If he were to tell that to his mother, she will be more than disappointed to see how much his only child has become in the span of 22 years of being raised single-handedly by her.

"Hey, Danny," he said out of nowhere.

"Yeah, Scott?"

"What do you think of Allison?" he asked.

"Hmm, she's nice and all, but you know she's out our leagues, right?" he asked with a teasing tone. Scott chuckled at the response and silence took over, leaving Scott to gather his thoughts before calculating his next question. Before he could ask his next question, Danny continued, "She's nice and all, but I don't really know enough to say she's a wonderful lady and all. I need to know more, of course," he explained, prompting Scott to give a hum in agreement.

"Is it bad that I actually think that Isaac is only aiming Allison for her body and nothing else?" asked Scott. He winced at his question, as he did not like to judge people by ill means.

"Hmm, you have a point there, but what college student doesn't these days. All hormones and no substance," Danny replied, impelling Scott to give another hum in concurrence. He was not gonna deny that. Sex was always a top priority in the food chain when it comes to college. Like they always say, beauty is temporary, so misuse it while you can. "I want to date someone based on feelings," mused Danny.

"Mhmm,"

"What about you? Don't you want to feel love," he asked.

"Who doesn't?"

"Well, with a body like that, you could have fooled me," Scott chuckled at the statement, "Especially with those girls flirting with us. Sad they had to turn them down, knowing that we're two miserable gay guys,"

"Tell me about it,"

A pause then followed by in the silence. Sighing, Scott bid his goodnight to Danny, and closed his eyes, hoping that tomorrow would serve a better purpose than tonight.

~RETURN~

It was already half past eight. Kira and Boyd had long left the library as well as everyone in the library and Derek could not understand how much free time the young man in front of him was wasting on.  _Shouldn't he be worried about his studies or something,_  he thought. Most of the people in the library has left the library leaving only Stiles and Derek all alone, which irked the brooding man more as hour passed. By the time, it had reached nine, Stiles was already done with reading his third book and he was collected the book before leaving to return them to their original spots. Derek was not sure what the boy was doing with his free time and he hoping that, with whatever the young man was going to do with his time in college or work time or whatever he was going to do in a few weeks, he would lay Derek off for a while.

"Anytime now, Sourwolf. Clock's ticking, stomach's rumbling and you and I both know we haven't had a decent meal since breakfast," said Stiles loudly in the library.

"Stop calling me that," he growled.

"Alright. Sourwolf," he said. With a slam of his book on the table, the tall man approached the younger man and pinned Stiles to the nearest bookshelf, clearly annoyed and his patience at its end. Stiles' eyes widened at the contact and the seriousness that superseded in the ambiance. He did not realize he was this strong to lift him, let alone pin him to a hard surface roughly.

"I told you not to call me that," groused the older man.

"Okay, okay! I get it, I won't call you that anymore, just put me down, alright? Please? Derek?" he begged. The contact was already beyond the personal space and it did not faze him how slightly aroused the younger man was. He was not gay, that was for sure, but the feeling was certainly overwhelming. His train of though was broken when he felt his butt land on the floor. He looked up and saw the man in black shirt and pants walking away back to the table. Standing up and dusting himself off, silence took over, and Stiles walked over to the same direction Derek took. The older man approached the rows of switches, and began turning the lights off. The lights that once illuminated the entire space began to turn into darkness in succession until darkness took over. The only light source left was the backdoor that led to the elevator.

"Come on," said Derek lowly before walking to the backdoor. Stiles heeded his words and they soon entered the backdoor, and was met with an empty, small spaced corridor. The other side held the elevator and Derek pressed the down button, and the two waited for the said elevator to arrive.

"So, are we gonna eat?" Stiles asked coyly.

The older man scoffed. However, he did have to admit a shift that consisted of 10 hours really did take a toll on his famine, and he ended up giving Stiles a gruff toned "Yeah". Stiles could not stop the grin that took over his face, ebullient of the response. The elevator arrived and the two entered inside the enclosed space, with Derek tapping the elevator button that led down to the basement floor. The elevator descended and it did not consume much time for the elevator to reach its destination. The parking lot was bare of vehicles, only a black Camaro parked stationary at one of the parking spot. Stiles' eyes widened at the sight and he ran over to the vehicle, clearly impressed and excited that Derek would own a sweet ride such as that. Derek heard Stiles wooing in excitement as he ran over there and could not help but give a prideful smirk at the response.

"You drive this!?" exclaimed Stiles, "That's so cool, man!"

"Cool is an understatement," said Derek pridefully, his facial expression now void of any smirk.

"Can I drive it?" asked Stiles hopefully. The older man gave a stare at Stiles, clearly an indication that the answer was a definitive 'no'. Instead of replying, Derek entered the driver's seat and turned the engine on, with Stiles joining him in the passenger seat. Stiles could not halt his next advance when his hand smoothed over the dashboard, clearly awed by the beauty of a vehicle, "I would so get one of this, but the real beauty is at home," he said.

"What do you drive then?" asked Derek, clearly curious to what kind of vehicle would be better than owning a Camaro.

"A jeep," replied Stiles simply.

Derek scoffed at the response, "A jeep? Seriously, Stiles. What's so special about a jeep?" he continued. Stiles could not help but feel sad and hurt over the response, but it was that little ounce of pride that he mustered gave the desired answer.

"It was my mother's. She gave it to me. Before she...," before trailing off. Stiles glanced pitifully outside the window, trying to give a subtle heavy breath and not letting the tears flow out of their tear ducts. Derek could not help but feel the guilt that clouded his heart when he heard the cadence of the young man. It was the tone of his that made him caught on part of his life.

"It's my mom's. She died of cancer when I was 14," said Stiles, with confidence wavering as he said the last few words of his line.

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I lost my family to a fire," said Derek nonchalantly. Stiles was surprised of the his relaxed state to give such reply. If he were to lost his entire family, he would break down in pieces by just uttering the word family. Heck, he would sobbing waterfalls upon that.

"Guess we both lost some things," said Stiles. He did not want to pity Derek for his loss. What point was there? His level of loss could not match nor rival Derek's and he was pretty sure Derek did not need another fake condolence being rained on him.

"I guess. At least my sisters are alive," he said, his tone still relaxed, eyes fixed towards the streets.

"I still have my dad," said Stiles.

"Guess we still have something," mused Derek.

Stiles chuckled and he could feel his body relax as the confession came rolling in, "Alright, this is getting morbid real quick. Let's just get some food to eat, alright?"

"Yeah, that would be nice," he said, his conscious now relieved of the tension relief in the car.

**~RETURN~**

Scott woke up to the alarm clock ringing. He carelessly flailed his left arm to halt the sounds and his hand soon found the snooze button. He rolled over to face the wall, clearly unhappy of the time to wake up. He did not have class that day and the fact that his alarm clock interrupted his sleep was evidently not the best sound to wake up to. It was displeasing, if he were to describe it. He was clearly not in the mood to be out of his bed, but with the sound that had blared his sleeping spell away, he was not going to be returning to sleep until tonight. He would try, but he knew that would be pointless, much less fruitless. He snuggled himself to the fabric of his pillows and sheets, trying to feel the softness of the bed. He could feel himself being hypnotized back to sleep when he heard Danny's voice.

"Scott? Breakfast's ready,"

Scott groaned at the ruined moment. He buried his face further into his pillow, as if the comfort was leaving him like the Titanic. He felt his heel being grabbed and Scott began to squirm and flail his arms, whining wildly when he felt his body being pulled down to the floor. He was well in to screaming when his face made contact with the hard wooden floor. As he grimaced and howled in pain, he heard laughter from the air.

"Danny, why?" whined Scott.

"Come on, Scott. Breakfast's gonna be cold,"

"It better be worth it," said Scott.

"Wouldn't be the first time I heard you saying that," said Danny, "Now get your ass up, McCall,"

"You're lucky that I love breakfast,"

"So they say, Scott. So they say," laughed Danny. Scott stood up, although reluctantly and lazily, walked over to the kitchen table with labor. He saw the plate filled with omellette, beans and sausages, bacons, french toast and eggs on the side. An all round American Breakfast. Scott's mind was like a switch. As soon as he saw the food, he went for it, devouring and savoring every bite he took. He was well into the french toast when Danny took the plate away, causing the wavy hair boy to pout and whining with his mouth full like a baby, "Danny, don't be like that. I'm starving,"

"That's funny, someone told me he did not want breakfast," he said with a smug grin.

"I didn't say that," he retorted.

"True, but you implied it," said Danny before taking a bite of his bacon, making the young man pout petualntly. Danny laughed at the man's facial respnse before settling the plate down in front of Scott, with his face lighting up. Danny shook his head as he went into the bathroom, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face.  _Adorable,_  he mentally commented.

**~RETURN~**

Scott finished his breakfast. He had never felt so full in his number of times having breakfast. He had to give credit to Danny. Anytime he cook up a meal, Scott always ended up filled to the brim. That man knows how to cook real good food. He went over to the nightstand and picked his phone up. Sitting on the bed, he unlocked it and read his messages. Some were from his mother, classmates, which were all read cursorily and one from Isaac. Never in his life had he been so quick to read and reply his messages. The message mentioned Isaac asking him to hang out with him and Allison, much to Scott's chagrin. Notwithstanding, he did not want to be cooped up in his room the entire day. Nevermind the two of them dated, he was going to be patient, and he could wait for a lifetime if he had to receive something. Looking up, he saw the bathroom door opened slightly and Danny was still inside while the shower was still running. Sure, there were pet peeves every college roommate has but between the two of them, there were none.

Until now.

But maybe not in the way one would call it a peeve.

Never in his entire life had he been in a daze where he could see Danny's naked body from the back. The water that cascaded down his body all the way to either his butt crack and toned legs turned the wavy hair man on in ways not even his hormones could find a way to tell him that. His cock was literally twitching and almost instantaneously, he felt his dick went hard. And the tightness that he was now experiencing in the confines of his boxer brief made it almost possible for it to pop a vein there. Almost.

Out of nowhere, Scott asked out of impulse, "Hey, Danny?"

"Yeah?" said Danny, his naked back still facing him, clearly unattentive to the tone Scott was using.

With as much normalcy mustered in his inflection, he continued with his eyes fixed onto his body, "Isaac.. Wants us to… ummm… Hang out with him today? You in?" he asked, his voice failing him.

"Yeah, sure," he said with the tap now turned up, the showering of water going to a halt. He left the space that presented his body to Scott to retreive his towel and Scott never felt more relieved of the arousal and awkwardness that had now disappeared from the air. His face was heated to the point that even Danny could see it.

And he was right.

"You okay there, Scott?" asked Danny, his expression and eyes clearly showing no hint of realization about the door being opened slightly, "You seem all red," He was now clad in a white wife beater with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Yeah," flustered Scott, "It's just my mom talking about getting it on with Stiles' dad," he lied with a wince, Stiles was definitely going to kill him for that lie. Danny laughed at the response.

"The breakfast was great by the way, I'm stuffed," he said, hoping that what had transpired was enough to be replaced by a comment regarding his cooking.

Boy, did he just flush thinking of what a great body Danny really has.

 


	5. Phobia

0.5

“The amount of curly fries astounds me,” said Derek in a monotone voice. They stopped over at a fast food restaurant, much to the elation of Stiles, he ordered curly fries that were enough to cover to trays, and Derek simply went with a burger and a small pack of curly fries. Stiles was clearly enjoying the taste of the fries and he did not seem to bother the sarcasm.

“Don't judge,” he said with a curly fry held pointedly towards him, “This creation is what makes the world a better place. I would marry it, but then again, I like someone with a heart,” he continued.

Scoffing in disbelief, Derek continued eating his meal. He looked surreptitiously at the young man – with happiness manifest in his eyes – gorging down the curly fries. Dipping them in the sauces, and then placing them in his mouth. For some weird reason, it makes Derek smile at the childishness.

He did not realize that he had been staring at the young man intently until Stiles snapped him out of it, “Hey, Derek. You okay?”

He shook his head, ridding himself of his woolgathering and saw a drip of ketchup on the side of his mouth. With his senses still not in awareness mode 100%, he took a napkin and wiped the side of Stiles' face. Stiles' eyes widened at the gesture and muttered a shy thanks at the man and continued eating. They ate in awkward silence, and Stiles, who usually had topics in his mind was rendered speechless and his mind was still shrouded over the fact that Derek, who was as sour and moody as any kid would be when its disapproved of things, gave a small, kind gesture at him. Clearly, his heart was racing when he did something like that.

Glancing up, he saw Derek still eating his fries, patently unaware of the mayonnaise that was on the side of his mouth. Without thinking or judging his action, he used his thumb and neared it towards the man's cheek, which prompted a confused look from the man as he saw Stiles' rubbing it off gently and slowly. He then dabbed the mayonnaise on the napkin, and muttered, “You got a little mayonnaise right there just now,”

With a swallow, Derek replied, “Thanks,”

**~RETURN~**

The ride home was not all that bad. Stiles filled the atmosphere with conversations that were of random topics and Derek was slightly relieved of the icebreaker from all the awkwardness that happened in the fast food diner. He was not listening to everything that Stiles muttered but clearly realized how much energy he has, even when it is usually time for bed. _Surely his dad must have a heart time keeping him in control,_ he thought.

Derek parked the vehicle at side of the road, where he usually parks and Stiles alighted the vehicle. They both walked inside the building and with the usage of the elevator, they soon arrived at the fifth floor, where they home is located. Derek unlocked the door and turned on the lights and clearly was surprised of the intruder that was in the house.

“Der-bear!” exclaimed the brunette woman. He hugged Derek and as usual, with his mood that was the source of all killjoys, he patted her on the back.

“Laura,” he said gruffly, “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting, duh. You're lucky Cora isn't here to visit you,” she replied. With a grunt in response, the older woman turned to Stiles, “Who's this?”

“Stiles. Stiles Stilinski,” he replied.

“The sheriff's son?” she instantly asked.

“Yeah. Wait, what?” he said with a perplexed look.

“You don't happen to know a place called Beacon Hills, do you?” asked Laura.

“That's where I come from,” he replied.

“Well, what a coincidence. We're from Beacon Hills too. Not a lot going to New York, that's for sure,”

“How is it I've never seen you before?”

“Clearly you don't know about the fire,” said Laura.

“Laura,” said Derek with tension laced in his voice.

“What fire?” pressed Stiles, intrigued by the start of the story. Laura looked at Derek, clearly uncomfortable with the topic initiated by Laura.

“I guess,” she said before pursing her lips in consideration, “Der-Bear will tell you that,” said Laura finally.

“Der-Bear? More like Sourwolf,” retorted Stiles with a scoff. Laura laughed at the nickname and Derek glared at Stiles at the nickname.

“That's actually really good, Stiles. Way better than Der-Bear right, Sourwolf?” she asked teasingly, “Clearly that nickname should only be called by Stiles. He created it, and has license towards it,” she said before yawning, “I'm just gonna hit the sack. Guest room not taken?”

“Uhh,” said Derek, “Stiles' made it his new room,” he continued with his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Ahh, I see. Here I thought you were on a date,” said Laura coolly.

“What?” said Stiles and Derek in unison.

“Wait, you guys not dating?” she asked innocently. Both men shook their heads in denial. “Oops. Well, that was awkward,” she said with her arms now mindlessly touching each other in embarrassment, “So where do I sleep? Definitely not the couch,”

“You could just take my bed,” said Derek, “I'll take the couch,”

“Or you could just share with me,” offered Stiles. He was becoming slightly weirded out by the two pairs of eyes looking at him in disbelief, “I mean, the bed's big enough to fit two people, right?” he asked. Derek nodded, albeit reluctantly so.

“Well, Derek. Seeing that your bed in the converted guest room is single,” she said pointedly ro Stiles, “and I don't want to share nor cuddle with you, no offense, you can just share with Stiles, Der-Bear. The sofa can't even fit your tall body,” agreed Laura. With that, she left and went into Stiles' room with her bag that was placed onto the sofa. She locked the door, leaving the two men in the living room to themselves.

Locking the door behind him, Stiles began, “So....”

With a gruff tone, Derek walked to his room with Stiles following behind him. Stiles went over to his room, with his hand knocking onto his locked door. Laura opened the door with his eyes peeking through the minute amount of space, “Yes?”

“Ummm, I need to get my clothes for the night,”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot that this is your new room,” said Laura before opening the door widely. He entered in the room, grabbing his shirt and shorts as quickly as possible. “So, you just came in here?”

“Bout three days ago,” he replied. Laura gave a hum of acknowledgement.

“So, what do you think of my brother?” she asked. Stiles was now standing in front of her, clearly taken aback by the question.

“Umm, he's kind quiet,” he described.

Laura chuckled at the rejoinder, “Don't be surprised though, he has been like that since he was sixteen. The year the fire happened,” she said.

“What happened?” he asked.

“As I told you, Derek will tell you but overall. Trust me, I'm tempted to share it with you but what I can tell you is that he's not always this moody and bipolar before the fire,” she explained, “Just give him time. He doesn't like to open about his feelings, and painfully so,” she reasoned. After a long pause, Laura asked, “You sure you guys aren't dating or something?”

Stiles flustered at the question and immediately reiterated his words, “No. I'm not gay. Maybe,”

“Maybe? What's that supposed to mean?” she asked with her eyebrows raised.

“I mean. I've never been in a relationship,” he admitted sheepishly

“Ahh, very self observant of you,” she said before standing up and closing up to him, “I like you, Stiles. Take care of my brother while I'm not around, all right?” asked Laura. Stiles nodded with confusion and stupor, clearly bemused of the sudden question. They stood in silence before Laura said in a cheery tone, “Well, goodnight Stiles. You should go. Wouldn't want Derek waiting on you. He likes his door locked whenever he's in there. Would suck to sleep on the couch, trust me,” she said. Stiles nodded and walked out of the room hurriedly, changing his clothes in the bathroom and dumping his used shirt in the laundry basket. He looked at the filled to the brim basket and made a mental note to send them to the laundromat the next day. With his clothes now changed, he walked to Derek's room and opened the door with a deep breath and turned the knob slowly. He assumed that Derek was asleep by now, so with tenderness in his movements he opened the door and saw the man lying on the bed, with his back facing Stiles.

 _Well, this is awkward._ Their relationship has been all kinds of awkward and Stiles closed the door gently. He stood there and rubbed his arm, uncomfortable of the silence in the room. He looked inside the room and saw the photos that decorated his wardrobe. It was simple, but slightly bare. He took the pillow from the bed and placed them on the floor. He was about to lay down and let himself sleep. He felt the floor made contact with his back and it was quite unsettling of the feeling of sleeping on the floor. _This isn't going to end well sleeping here._ He did not hear anything from Derek regarding his decision to sleep on the floor. He took the silence as a yes, and with might that he collected in his mind did he allow the darkness to overcome his senses.

He woke up and expected the discomfiture running through his muscles as he woke up. He moved his arm and the first thing his senses picked up was the soft fabric of sheets that was beneath him. He moved his hand and drifted it to get his senses adapted to the feeling. He then had realized that he was on Derek's bed and his mind went questioning of his sudden appearance onto the bed. Last he checked, he was sure that he was sleeping on the floor. He looked over to his left and saw Derek's body turned away from him. _Did he carry me here?_

He looked at the body of Derek and saw that he was wearing sweatpants and a grey shirt that fit his body really well. What really caught Stiles' eyes was the small part of the tattoo that was displayed on his back just below the nape of his neck. For strangers, most would not just touch people without permission or when one has gone into the point of a relationship, whether intimate or not, but in Stiles' mind, being the impulsive one that he is, his fingertips touched the tattoo hesitantly, hoping that his fingers would only brush the inked skin.

What he did not expect was the growl like grumble that elicited from the motionless body. Stiles retracted his fingers that touched the skin between the defined shoulder blades. Stiles looked up to the ceiling, forgoing his mission to discover the complete tattoo. Derek shifted his body and continued his slumber. Stiles looked over to his right and saw the time and it was barely eight in the morning. He had almost a week and a half before classes start and the copious amount of time that he had in hand only brought more boredom in his time. He got off from his bed and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. Once finished, he went over to the kitchen and saw Laura sitting down, munching on crackers and taking occasional sips of coffee. She smiled at Stiles in greeting. Stiles, who was still in a sleep trance, gave a hum in response and sat down on the chair next to her, and took a bite of the cracker.

“Slept well?” asked Laura, who grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and placed it on the table for Stiles. Stiles muttered a soft thanks before dipping the said cracker in his coffee and taking a bite out of it.

“I guess, I don't remember being on the bed, though,” said Stiles, his attention fixated to the cracker in his hands.

“What do you mean?” she asked with eyebrows raised.

“I slept on the floor,” said Stiles sheepishly. _Great, now I feel like someone who's asking pity._

“Why?” asked Laura.

Stiles paused for a moment, collectively trying to think of ways to prevaricate the question but ended up answering, “Coz your brother is the most sour and moody person in the world and I'm slightly terrified of him?” Laura laughed at the response and Stiles' cheeks were getting red from the answer.

“Ahhh, that's excusable,” she sighed after laughing, “So you have no idea how you got there on bed?” Stiles shook his head in response, “I guess that just means one thing,”

“What?”

“My brother has a crush on you,” she replied simply.

_Huh?_

**~RETURN~**

Derek felt two tender fingers touching his back, specifically his tattoo. Out of instinct, the man gave a growl in response, and he could no longer feel the touch, much to Derek's surprising chagrin.

He returned to sleep, replaying the events that happened the night before.

_Derek entered his room, clearly sulking of the fact that Stiles and Laura had concurred that Laura will take Stiles' bed instead of his. He did not want to share his bed with Stiles, since he was still a stranger. For all he knew, he could be a serial killer and Derek can admit that it was an illogical yet hypothetical excuse to feel suspicious that the two, let alone Stiles, suggest and agreed that this was a plausible idea. Removing his shirt and pants, he grabbed his sweatpants and grey shirt from the dresser and wore them. He laid on the bed and immediately went over to the side where his face and body was facing the wall._

_He stared at the wall in front of him, clearly troubled by the conversation regarding the fire that happened many years ago. He was confident in saying that his family had passed away, but the events that supervened that night gave Derek little confidence to talk about it; think about it even._

_He heard the door being opened and could have ordered the young man to lock it like he always have done it, but refrained himself from doing so. He did not hear the mattress being impacted of any significant weight and began to wonder whether he was hallucinating or not. He was pretty sure he heard the door being opened and closed. Not wanting to move, he laid still on the bed, feigning ignorance at the young man's well-being. He could hear the pillow being picked up and landed softly on the floor, and his face scrunching in exasperation but did nothing still._

_Was he that repulsive to begin with, he asked himself, insofar as to let Stiles keep distance from him as if he were a leper? He hated to admit it, but he liked Stiles around – and will never admit that openly to anyone about that – even though he was annoying and all, but also because he was an embodiment of what he was before the fire and a redolent to Laura's childlike personality._

_He was something he was before and something he was afraid to be again._

_He finally heard Stiles' snoring soundly, and Derek moved over to see the man laid across. He did not realize that he had already taken his sleep from all the thoughts that had shrouded his mind. His eyes were heavy and when he got off the bed, he picked the young man up in his arms and placed him gently on the bed. Thank goodness he was not a heavy sleeper, or things would have ended up really problematic. The young man smiled at the softness and Derek could not help but smile back at the endearment._

_He laid back on the bed, but not without brushing the hair out of his Stiles' face and whispering a goodnight to him. He laid back on his side and returned the former position, closing his eyes._

He then realized he had already left the bed, and Derek laid on the bed by his back, slightly pleased by the fact that he had not need to add too much pressure to the point of muscle cramps on his right side of the body.

He sighed in both fear and content upon staring at the ceiling.

**~RETURN~**

Scott sent his reply text to Isaac, giving the okay that Danny and himself will be joining. As much as he wants to join Isaac, the fact that he was basically in a relationship only made his heart clench tighter and tighter by the hour, and with Danny, he would at least gain a semblance of an anchor, allowing himself to distract himself of what would be evinced in front of him when they hang out.

Scott showered and tried to shake off the body of Danny's, on how the water smoothly cascade from his soft and supple skin, from the black hair that coursed through and dripped down to his neck and then to past his shoulder blade and finally trailing down to his butt and toned, firm legs. He was glad that the door was locked behind him, or he will be having a hard time focusing on getting his sanity in check as he showered.

He dried himself with his towel and looked at himself in the mirror. His mind kept chanting to get it together and hope that he does not screw things up during their outing. He brushed his teeth thoroughly and then rinsed his mouth. He went out of the bathroom and found Danny dressed up in a fitting navy blue shirt with jeans that documented his legs fairly well. With his cheeks getting heated when he thought about the peeping incident, he rushed to get himself dressed before Danny starts asking if he was alright. He went to his dresser and donned a red striped shirt and wore his boxer briefs and finally his pants. He did not give much attention to his wavy hair and proceeded to place his towel by the chair, where he usually hangs. He grabbed his wallet and phone before telling Danny that he was ready to leave. The pair went off and soon left the dormitory, locking the door.

Weekend was void of any classes, so it only made more sense for Isaac to suggest the idea of having an outing with some of his friends. Scott and Danny passed along the corridors that will soon lead them to the outdoors, where the hustle and the bustle reigns supreme in the atmosphere. They clamoured down the staircases, an alternative that Danny prefers using since the elevators at this time of the weekend is a conduit for the large amount of students leaving for their own respective activities.

They soon arrived at the ground floor where Isaac and Allison were cozying up to each other. The sight unnerved Scott and he balled his hands into a fist and it was just pure heartbreak on how much they were being sardonic towards him, unbeknownst to them. He could not help it. It was just aggravating to see the two going on at each other.

“Scott. You okay,” asked Danny with his eyebrows furrowed, concern laced in his words.

“Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Just something in my mind,” he replied quickly.

“You sure? You seem real tense,” replied Danny.

“Don't worry about it,” said Scott with an assuring smile. Danny nodded, albeit unconvinced of the response. Out of respect, he let it go, and saw the couple walking up to them with a wave of their hands and cheerful smiles plastered on their faces. Scott pulled himself back and wore a smile on his face. They walked off into town and were immediately met with cars honking at one another along with people walking. Some were working hurriedly and some were shouting in their phones, not giving care to the people around them. There were others who were walking leisurely and Scott cannot help but feel lonely looking at the amount of couples that passed by linking arms with each other, and have bright smiling faces on their faces, their time well spent for each other. Scott could not help but feel envy at the people who were in a blissful state and Scott never felt more alone at the sight. Sure, he had his mother and Stiles looking out for him, but he wants more than that. Someone who could give him the love that he deserved.

“Scott!” called Isaac. Scott snapped out his mind and looked at the three, who were now at a considerable distance away from him, “You coming?” he hollered. He nodded his head and walked at a brisk pace towards the three, apologizing for his behaviour. They shrugged it nonetheless, and Scott did not know whether to feel either relieved or more hurt about their indifference.

 


	6. Yes & No

0.6

It had almost been 5 days since Laura had revealed to Stiles that Derek was smitten with him. He may never admit it, but he was smirking the first few days when he discovered it – secretly so, of course. Laura had not left the home and it seemed apparent to Stiles that she was going to enjoy her time in New York for a pretty long time. Derek was not amused of the whole Laura and Stiles being in the same room, as he believed both of them are conspiring amongst each other. Perhaps it was the lengthy, random conversation that the two of them have. Derek, if possible was becoming more sour of them, and even pictured his mind of a scenario where he threatened to leave the place and have both and Stiles and Laura keep the apartment to themselves, but even then, Laura and Stiles will nonchalantly accept the threat as an offer, adding more anger to the brooding man himself.

Life was not giving any pleasure in the course of the 5 days as Derek could not escape the wrath of Stiles and Laura's chattering. Wherever he goes, Derek could not help but punch or peel his skin in aggravation and annoyance as he could literally hear them talking, at most laughing from a far distance. Had he known that the two of them would be a challenge, he would have trained himself to build patience that he so deserved at the moment. If having one sister is annoying enough, add Stiles to the combination. Derek was at least, although reluctantly, grateful that Stiles was not a legitimate nor real brother to him, or otherwise he would be having a real fit. Stiles would fit the bill to a T if he were a real brother, but that would create all kinds of wrong seeing that the older man was actually having intimate attraction to the younger man. Incestuous relationship is the last thing he needed to be having with anyone.

It did not make Derek kick them out though, as he secretly missed the atmosphere that was filling the interior. Stiles had frequently slept on the floor and Derek had to pick him up to place him on the bed. Whether he did it on purpose or not was still a mystery to Derek. He repeated the process once more until it was patent to

On that faithful Tuesday, Stiles had left to buy groceries, which he felt as an inmate in Derek's apartment it was his duty to go and stock up the necessary provisions for the month. He had money and he refused the money that was offered by Laura, seeing that Laura was the guest and it would only be rude if a guest had to pay. Laura was not in with the idea but conceded when Stiles used the Derek argument, citing that she had never paid for Derek during her visits. He left and gave his cheerful goodbye to the duo. Derek was sitting on the sofa, with his book in his hands, reading the context and contents with genuine interest and intent. Laura was busy buffering her nails, like any normal girl would do, and was quite relaxed during her entire stay. Derek also had to be thankful for one other thing. With Stiles around, Laura's attention was now directed more towards Stiles rather than Derek, allowing the man to having the space and peace he needed that has now receded by a significant percentage and ratio. Most of the time, they never left and even though Derek called them annoying, their chattering was a small price to pay for the peace that he desired. It was either that, or them pestering them twenty-four seven.

“So....,” said Laura, her gaze still transfixed on the bluntness of her nails, “What do you think of Stiles?” Derek did not answer, and instead shrugged his shoulders in indifference and insouciance. Laura was not pleased of the answer and went to scoot her position to Derek, who was still reading through his rimmed glasses. Laura, ever the sensible one, grabbed the book out of Derek's calloused hands and shut the book, with a bookmark of course, as she was gracious enough to know that Derek hates it when he lost track of his reading rhythm. “Derek, you're not answering the question,”

“He's fine, alright?” said Derek noncommittally, “The book, Laura,”

“My, my. So touchy now, aren't we? 'Fine' is not going to cut it, Derek. You like him and it's really obvious. It's written on your forehead. I should just get the marker for good measure,” said Laura playfully, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“I didn't say that I like him,” riposted Derek.

“Ahh, but you're not denying it,” countered Laura reflexively. Derek could feel his patience and composure thinning. The interrogation was invasive, and Laura knew that but it mattered littered to the older Hale as she continued with her interrogation.

“Come on, Derek. You're the one who carried the man onto bed, the first night he slept in your room. And the second, so don't bother trying to deny it. Stiles doesn't sleepwalk and he's well aware to know that,” said Laura, “So, you're gonna be the good ol' complaisant brother of mine, or this book will never receive its owner's conclusion. And I heard that the ending is pretty shocking, unless spoilers are your thing these days,” said Laura. With a glare that could burn holes if it could, the older man begrudgingly huffed in irritation before conceding silently. “Good. With that settled. How's Stiles treating you so far?”

Derek did not respond to the question. With a sigh, Laura immediately said, “I heard that the boy in the book will” but was cut off by Derek, who was desperate not to hear the ending of the book without his proper knowledge.

“He's nice, alright?”

“Just nice?” asked Laura.

“I guess. Annoying, but I never let him stop talking. I just don't like it when he calls me Sourwolf,”

Laura laughed at the remark, “That's just him showing his affection, Derek. Be happy and grateful that you're the one in honor to receive that nickname. It's not like he calls that to anyone else,”

“He reminds me of you,” he said quietly.

“I know, Derek. I am pretty infectious and affectionate,” Derek rolled his eyes at the comment but smiled at his sister, “but seriously. That sounds wrong though, coz it almost feels like you wanna date me or something. Incest alert,” mocked Laura. Derek and Laura shook their heads with a wince, even though it was pretty blatant that it was a joke. Derek huffed out a laugh which made Laura smile. He had not seen his younger brother laughed in years and she was almost sure that Derek had lost his optimism and cheerfulness due to the lack of response towards other people's jocular nature.

“He reminds me of me,” he added, with his voice barely audible.

“I know.” said Laura, her tone matching the sadness, “Look, it's been what? 8 years? Come on, Derek. You're 26. Be grateful that you still have your uncle, me and Cora. Better than no one at all, if you ask me. Sure, it was hard at first but it tires you if you let it overtake your mind and decisions. Besides,” she said before scooting next to him closer, “I miss the old you,”

“He makes me want to smile again,” he admitted shyly.

Laura glanced up to meet her brother's eyes, “He does?” she asked expectantly. Derek simply nodded at the question, bringing another smile from the female Hale, “For what it's worth, Derek, he likes you too. It's just that, you know. He's never done relationships in his life. Why don't you go out and take him out somewhere? You know, dinner or maybe just a walk in the park. Just ask him. He doesn't know what he is, so that's one thing about him; self-observant,” convinced Laura. Derek nearly bought the idea but was still hesitant of his decision to ask the younger man out, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll be meeting Paige later this evening, so you can use the opportunity to ask him out once more okay? Do it for me, please, Der-bear?” The man gave a deep sigh before nodding heavily at the idea. Laura returned the book and placed it on his lap before giving a kiss on his cheek, “Mom and dad would love him,”

“You think so?” asked Derek hopefully.

Laura nodded at the idea, “Of course. If you say that he's like me, then mom and dad will would have definitely love him one hundred percent. I know so. But seriously, if you do not make a move out of this, I will make sure that I will sleep with you tonight, and we both know how I am when it comes to bed space,” she warns and Derek could not help but shudder in fear at the thought.

**~RETURN~**

“.... and this is where we take the necessary precautions to handle...,” says Deaton in a passionate teaching voice. Scott could not process most of his lecture, most likely due to the fact that Isaac was standing next to him. His tall stature and curly hair make it impossible to have a focal point in the lesson. He did not like the attention that he was giving towards Allison. He would be lying if he said that he hated Allison, but he did. He hated her solely because the attention that she has been receiving from Isaac was something that Scott craved and he wanted to be the one touched by Isaac, and have his lips locked with his, but the thoughts that swirled around his mind made him more anxious, and at times, asthmatic. He rarely relied on his inhaler, due to the fact that his asthma attacks were mitigating as he gets older, but with his anxiety crippling at an aggrandizing rate, it became almost impossible to gain nor regain his breathing. He was glad that Danny was the only one noticing that he was having a panic attack/asthma attack. Scott never told the Hawaiian man of his recent fits and attacks, and he could not help but feel guilty whenever he sees the relaxed and comprehending expression the man gave him when he refuses to give an explanation. He was open, sure, but Scott never thought nor expected him to go towards that extent.

They were in the laboratory and Scott was standing behind the small group mentored by Deaton. He was breathing and sighing in boredom and pensively, clearly inattentive to the lesson before him. He was giving a blank expression throughout the lesson and his mind seemed to have this natural ability to negate and tune himself out of any noises and dissonance. He was staring but it was as if he was void of any vessel. Just a body that was empty of any soul.

He was clearly deep in his realm of thoughts until he felt his side being nudged by Isaac repeatedly and Scott shook himself of his reverie. He did not realize that Dr. Deaton was standing, bending his knees to meet his eye level and Scott could not help but feel embarrassed of the numerous stares of concern placed on him. Certainly not the attention he was asking for. In fact, it was more that what he had bargained for.

“Scott,” says Deaton, “I think it's best you go back to your dorm and rest. I heard from Mahealani a few days ago that your asthma attacks have returned, and it's best rest is your utmost priority,” he advised. Before Scott could refute and deny his mental state, “I'll make sure to email you today's notes, alright?” bringing the discussion to a halt. He escorted Scott to the exit and assured him with a firm grip on his shoulder, “If you need to talk to me, Scott, you know where to find me, alright?” he asked with a sincere look on his face. Scott nodded in silence before leaving the room with an apologetic smile at his mentor.

He walked back to his dormitory, and Danny was not inside, whom Scott cannot help but feel relieved at the absence of his roommate. Sighing, he dropped his bag without care, and laid on his bed flat on his stomach, clearly disinterested with the outcome of the afternoon. He needed a break and needed one real bad.

He needed a drink. So, he took a nap and waited for the night to turn up, hoping that drinking will ironically, sober his thoughts.

**~RETURN~**

The night came and it was a busy one. Friday, and it was the auspicious moment to get wasted, as Scott would think. He could care less if it were a Friday or not, he just needed to get wasted. He was alone, which was a plus, otherwise, people would hear the sobbing story of his unrequited love with someone who was clearly in a relationship with a woman. He drank shot by shot, which garnered the attention of a worried bartender. He contemplated on restricting his intake of the alcohol, but with Scott's intoxicated state leaving him grumbling and antsy whenever confronted, he reconsidered his actions, but kept a close eye on him lest he starts an outcry, which so far has not ensued, much to the bartender's relief.

It was pathetic, as Scott's mind whirled in. He was hopelessly in love with someone who is out of his league. At times, he selfishly wished that homosexuality was an infection, where he can turn any straight men into gay without having a conscious thought. Like Rogue in X-Men, who was forced to wear a glove to avoid contact, only in Scott's situation, he wished for that with a few tweaks that include infection of homosexuality and the lack of usage on gloves. He wondered whether the hardships of being gay was either coming out or the fact that someone, whom god had decided, “Let's make this one irresistible to the eyes, and since I'm in a good mood today, I'll make him a good looking one,” appear in the form of a brown curly hair, blue eyed heart throb, made it harder to have feelings being openly expressed to without the shame and fearful rejection. The drinking did little to mollify his misery and he began to regret his impulsive decision.

He placed some bills on the bar before leaving the table, to which he managed to fall down before taking his first step. The inebriety that fogged his mind completely disable him of any control towards his abilities. He stood up, with much effort and walked off the bar, which he managed to stumble towards the stools and some people, who looked at him with annoyance, and sympathy. At least most of the people were empathetic enough to look at him and immediately think, “Wow, that guy must have had a shitty day,”. He really was not in the mood for a fight, and in his current state, there was no room for denial.

He was well on his way to his block, when he stumbled across Isaac's room. He squinted his eyes in confusion, wondering why in the world would he choose to end up somewhere like here. It was grotesque, knowing that the activity occurring behind them would cause only more heartbreak.

Still and all, he knocked on the door, much to Scott's wince.

The door opened and in front of him was Isaac Lahey, dressed in casual clothing and with a weird look towards the young man, “Scott?” he asked. Without much words, he plunged towards the man, smashing his lips with his. To the surprise of Scott, the man reciprocated his kiss and swiped his tongue tentatively, giving his best attempt to dominate his attempt to control him. It was languid, but every tongue dance they made was met with effort and Scott could not help but feel blissful of the reciprocation. He would like to give his thanks to the scotch that he consumed tonight. It was not the best way to initiate and incite a kiss from someone, let alone an unplanned one and with a breath that had alcohol completely imbued in his saliva. He placed his hands and wrapped them around his neck, like lovers do when they kissed and felt hands placed on his hips, intimate about it.

But Scott could not help but feel the need to the vomit, at his actions specifically.

He pulled back, realizing that his move was a sick one and a one way ticket to jerk land. He was with Allison, for crying sake and here he was, obsessed with someone who was evidently in a relationship and ruining it with a kiss. One fucked up move.

He pulled back and glanced down at his feet, his mind chanting how wrong it all was. With a muttered sorry, he walked out of the Isaac's room, ignoring the calls that were behind him. He needed to get out. Fast. Sickening, was all his mind could process.

He tried to return back to his dormitory, but was met with countless knocks against the wall and standing beside pillars to keep his balance. His mind was still intoxicated and his rationale was all jumbled up. He was pretty sure that the way he was using was the one that led back to his room, and with labour, did he move his feet with much awareness laced inside his nerves. He did not really get far, though, when he finally reached a door. A door with the familiar door number pinned and he praised himself for being able to arrive at his room without much trouble, aside from his drunken state. Rummaging through his pockets filled with loose change, he found his key and unlocked the door and was met with Danny, dressed in his tank top and a pair of boxers.

“Scott?” he asked with concern, and Scott landed his head on his firm chest. He wrapped his arms around his torso, sobbing at his pathetic and crappy day of his life. Danny wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly, ensuring that his balance will not give way to the floor. He hushed the young man, like a mother who would placate her young child, and whispered to him that it is all okay. He was okay and Scott could not stop the relief that washed over him when he was under the ephemeral protection of Danny's. He was safe, for now, from the nightmares and terrors that were literal and tangible at the outdoors. Danny brought the man to his bed and let the man sleep, his clothes still intact to his body. He did not care enough to remove his clothes. All he wanted was to forget that it ever happened.

Maybe it was an, if not the, opportuned moment to be Rogue. To kill and leave all the evidence and reasons to a cold case.

**~RETURN~**

Derek awaited the arrival of Stiles. It was already six in the evening and Stiles was taking quite a while with grocery shopping. Derek could not help but feel the panic slowly diffusing in his cogitation. Laura had long left to meet her friend and it was becoming alarming as Laura was sending him messages regarding his arrival. Derek repeatedly sent the same text, implanting worry in the tone of her text. However, unlike Derek, she was slightly more optimistic of Stiles' arrival sending texts with the lines, “He's gonna be alright,” to “It's okay, Derek,”, abating the nervousness that was in Derek's heart.

Half and hour has passed and still no signs of Stiles returning. He was about to text his resignation of the idea to ask Stiles' out until he hears the unlocking of the door, and in pours multitudes of paper bags dropping on the floor. Derek's eyes widened, but scrambled to help the young man. The amount of items that flowed out of their respective bags was enough to feed a family of six, if estimation counts. Stiles groaned in pain when he felt his body hitting the ground with a resounding thud and crunch of the bags. The wrinkling and crinkling of the bag all manifest in their hearing senses. Despite everything, Stiles could not help but laugh at the situation. Legitimately, he was chortling at his predicament, seeing how absurd the situation was. Derek did nothing but stare at the younger man, and was amused of how relaxed he was becoming as he laughed. It was euphonious to his ears, and he stared at the man, only this time, he was scrutinizing his complexion. The moles that were laid sprayed across his face and how his eyelids flutter were little things that only a handful would and could appreciate.

The groceries were laid strewn and glancing with cursory at the sight of the mess, only made Stiles laugh hysterically. It was infectious and Derek could not help but grin amidst the confusion and disarray. He could hear the laughter and uproar of his joy abating and Stiles took a deep breath to collect himself, staring at the floor before looking at the man with stubble, with a relieved and relaxed smile painted on his face.

Derek stared at him with interest and could not avert his eyes away from the lips that are innocently attracting his attention. Without having the judgment and reticence that he usually evokes, he leaned closer with eyes closed and bridged the gap between the two individuals that were towering over the mess.

Stiles did not react with immediacy and could feel the intimacy and lips that were pushing against his coaxing him to respond, and he could feel his body reacting effectively to the kiss, degree by degree. He could soon feel his eyes closing, and his hand holding the nape of Derek's neck with gentleness, giving as much as he can to earn to feel the same passion that Derek was providing him with. He was really feeling it, and could feel his reciprocation becoming more raw and genuine.

Derek was not holding back, swiping his tongue slyly on Stiles' lips and Stiles returned his efforts with a miniscule gap that was all enough for him to have their tongues tango. His mind was having a sensory overload. He could not believe that Stiles was not running away, his fears mitigating almost to none and the body heat that was dormant became communal only to the two of them. It was sensual and passionate all the same. The air around them was ebbing, as if their kiss had transported them to a planet where air is a rarity, but none out of the two were feeling panicked.

Derek pulled back, his hand leaning the right cheek of Stiles, forehead leaned against his. He was inhaling light and quick puffs of air, trying to muster his sanity that was nearly lost in the span of a minute that seemed to be forever. Stiles was heaving and he stared at the man, whose lips were merely centimetres away from his, feeling the warm air that exhaled out of his mouth and brushed his chin and uncovered cheek with tangible force.

“Go dinner with me,” he said in a breathless whisper. Stiles' eyes widened as the words rang endlessly in his head, trying to process his mind of the request that was pleaded with sincerity. He held Derek's hand and stood up, leaving the man without his intended answer. He could feel the dejection coming in as Stiles continued to pick the strewn groceries of the floor and bringing them to the kitchen. He placed the items in the fridge and pantry, while Derek sat there motionlessly, frowning and perplexed at his apparent fruitless effort. _Was I being too forward,_ he asked himself. _Did I go too far?_ All the questions that blitzed his mind made him more regretful, and pathetic at best. Stiles was mulling over his request. Should he go, he asked himself. He did kiss back with similar feelings, so it was proof enough for him to say yes, right? Yet, he feels hesitant. For someone who was moody as hell, he was opening up, Bit by bit and he wondered whether venturing to that kind of side was a prudent decision. Once he cleaned the entire living room away did he pick Derek up. He stared at the floor without giving a look at Stiles, feeling worse than a kicked puppy would feel. Stiles bent his knees by a few notch and looked at the dejected look planted on Derek's face. Canting his head, he kissed Derek with enough ardent and made sure that the older man returned the kiss. He did, albeit reluctantly, but it was more than enough for Stiles to give his finality of his conscious decision.

“Alright,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give a comment and some kudos if you enjoyed it!


	7. If Only.

0.7

Scott woke up to the alarm clock, groaning at such an inappropriate time, too. He slams his hand down on the snooze button, not caring or at least bit worried whether the thing has been smashed to bits. He groaned once more, and he turned to the other side, not heeding the clock's programmed schedule of waking him up. It was a Saturday, and owning an alarm clock that sadly does works every day in a diurnal fashion made things a bit hard to ignore. The loudness of the blaring noise the clock made his head ring in displeasure and incense, and instead of feeling his usual self, he hid himself in the blankets.

“Wakey wakey,” sang a voice with loudness as his card. Scott whined and held onto his blankets only to feel them being pulled away by the same person. He held his own, and made sure that the cloak of visibility do not get away from his tight grasp.

He felt the body wrapping around him, rendering him at a disadvantage as he felt the layer of cover being peeled off with forceful tendencies. He held them until he finally gave up, where he squinted his eyes upon seeing the mild intensity of the brightness of the room. Danny sat before him, with an innocent cheeky smile on his face.

“Danny, why?” whined Scott with laziness.

“Come on, Scott. Breakfast is ready. You need that hangover gone, and ummm… Isaac was here,” he said, with a slight pause and change in nuance of his voice. Scott stopped his moves, apprehending the words that went through his ears. He wished he didn't listen to those words and would have preferred to just straight out hear them. They were two different actions and he preferred the latter. He could feel himself tense and he pulled down the blanket, meeting Danny's patient gaze.

“Come on, we can all get sappy later. Right now, you need some warm food in your system,” he said before pulling Scott out with one hand on his hand and the other on his torso. The warm touch was electrifying, and Scott wanted to blame it on his hungover state but the touch is all too warm to be ignored. He has always seen Danny as a friend, but never did his feelings extended to somewhere deeper. Danny has always been there for him, with open arms. The problems that he never tell, he respected. The shoulder he needed to lean on, he was there for it, without any compunctions.

And since the incident regarding his shower peeking, he could not help but feel like he should give more, and he doesn't want it to be a compulsory action.

He wanted it to be a reciprocation. Maybe more, he thought to himself.

Scott ate his breakfast silently, with Danny preparing himself off to buy some stuff for himself, and he left with himself telling Scott that they will be going out for the night for dinner, something that he wanted to do for a while. He didn't mind cooking, but he wanted a break from it, and giving himself a pizza treat or whatever it was going to be, would be a nice break from the continuous streak he had managed to create in the past week. Scott agreed, with his unashamed, cheeky condition of him asking him to pay, which prompted an eye roll from the Hawaiian man himself, but agreed nonetheless. Scott sighed once he left, and he resumed his eating thereafter. He showered, as usual, and could feel the hangover leaving his system. He ended his shower once he felt the cleanliness like a protective sleeve over his body and wrapped his body. He looked at himself in the mirror, where he looked slightly exhausted. Out of all honest people and figures born in the world, the probity of his body never failed to display every time he is tired, dejected, happy or any other emotion that ran through the mind of his. If his mind wasn't the one sad, it'd be the body that shows it, as morbid as it sounds.

He heard the door open, and he immediately concluded that Danny has returned. He left the room with a towel wrapped around his waist and was about to make fun of Danny's reason of returning, only to be surprised of Isaac's presence. He stood there, not even thinking how much more naked can he be when someone he fell in love with, has come inside.

“How'd you get in here?” asked Scott, wide eyes planted on Isaac. He was clad in a navy blue shirt that complimented his blue eyes, and trousers that showcased the defined legs of his, and either way, Scott's mind was trying all might to ignore three sights. His face, his torso, and his pant cover legs.

“The door wasn't locked. It never is. I did knock, no one answered. So I let myself in,” said Isaac.

 _Figures,_ thought Scott. Danny never locks the door after closing the door. He moved his eye upward feeling annoyed of the habit that Danny customarily kept to himself. A peeve that has becoming a pet to Scott, now that Isaac basically barged into.

Scott did a deep breath, hoping that the topic of what happened last night does not cross his mind as vividly as he woke up. He walked to the dresser, only his movements to be halted by Isaac's hand on his hips.

“Wha-,” but was met with Isaac's lips smashing his. He instantly reacted, a reaction that had been the opposite of what it was supposed to do. He could taste the mint from his breath, and he could not stop to feel more by opening his mouth slightly, surrendering his mouth to him. He could feel the wrapped towel being tugged away and he couldn't help but ask while panting, “What about Allison?”

“Fuck her,” punned Isaac with irony, “I want this. With you,” he said with lust his main motivation driving his body. Isaac pulled the towel down, dropping to Scott's knees. “Gosh, you are so beautiful. I have been wanting this with you. Only you,” he smoothed his hands on his chest, palming them, and Isaac grew more hungry at the touch, not able to resist the innate feeling, like he had contained it for a long time. He growled as his kisses grow hungry, and Scott could not help but feel turned on by the animalistic foreplay that had replaced his sanity. Scott went through Isaac's shirt, ignoring the twirling of his hem of the shirt that he would try for and let his hand traverse to his fine torso. He touches his nipples, and Isaac gave a purr of approval at the touch, making Scott slightly relieved of his first time sailing steadily. He was never ashamed of saying he was a virgin, notably because his virtue and goal of leaving his virginity in the hands of someone he truly loved.

And Isaac was the person he wanted his virginity to give to. He did not need to think of it. The moment he laid his eyes on Isaac's beautiful face, he knew that he wanted to make love to him. Most people like him wanted to take time to consider whether it was the right decision but Scott wasn't most of those kind of people.

He really did love him.

Isaac pulled his shirt over him, and resumed kissing. The still wet body of Scott's and the smooth body of Isaac's felt like as if the droplets were sizzling, making things extremely hot, and Scott could imagine smoke coming out of their droplets as it evaporated due to the high heat. Their tongues meet and Isaac hungrily sucked it, making Scott moan with implore at the feeling. His hands never left Isaac's nipples, circling them with persistence and tenderness. Isaac rubbed his back, lowering them inch by inch. The sensation kicked both into overdrive when he felt Isaac's hand and middle finger brushing the crease of Scott's butt, eliciting a throaty moan from the owner himself. Isaac grinned cockily at the response, and sucked couldn't wait but go over to the divot of his neck, kissing, sucking and lavishing his tongue at the sensitive spot. The hands that were on Isaac's nipples progressed to his hair, along with his face. His nose breathes in the lavender scented shampoo and hands tugging it with sensuality. He wanted more from it, and he couldn't wait to see where it would lead to.

“You sure your roommate's not coming?” Isaac ask, his face still busy on his collarbone. The amorous feeling that Isaac was laying on him rendered his cognition and speaking speechless, and Scott could only give a grunt in response, acknowledging that Danny would probably take more than a while outside the dorm. He panted, at the warm breath that brushed Isaac's hair and neck provoked and promoted his assail on his neck and ear, teasing it with hot breaths that could make Scott cum any minute.

“God, I can feel your dick getting harder and slicker for me,” said Isaac and it was true. The precum that oozed out of Scott's dick made a clear indication that his body was reacting extremely aroused by Isaac himself. It was more clear for Scott to believe that he will cum more than the average cum he spilled out whenever he masturbated, and Scott couldn't help but feel giddy about the prospect of cumming for his one true love.

“B-bed,” Scott stuttered, his use of speech becoming useless. Isaac was bending his head down, swirling his tongue on his nipples now. Scott gasped at the slimy contact of his tongue and it felt amazing, he felt like his mind running down to self destruct. The fact that he managed to contract himself, to hold his restraint to not cum at the moment, made things more of a revelation. Isaac sucked the bud, his teeth giving a soft nibble on it. Scott tugged his hair tighter, frustrated at the tension that Isaac was playfully exploring. Scott growled in frustration at the foreplay, and Isaac ignored it, continuing to play with Scott's body. His hands progressed more deeper into the crease, circling his hand over hole, still tight and waiting for a pleasure intrusion. Scott wanted to repeat his request but the touches and kisses that Isaac showered and laved him made things extremely difficult to get a word spoken.

Isaac stopped his movement, leaving Scott begging for more in his mind. The teasing was frustrating but pleasurable to the mind. Isaac held his hand, intertwining it and roughly pushed him to Scott's bed, bring a muffled moan from Scott. Isaac unbuckled his belt and Scott perked up when he heard the clinging of his belt. He dropped his pants and revealed the tight white Calvin Klein briefs in front of his, hugging his thighs, butt and the hard dick. It was becoming more thrilling when the briefs were slightly damp and revealingly so, with his cum leaking dick. Scott bit his lip, impatient to ask Isaac to get back onto bed.

Isaac crawled down to join Scott, with their lips reuniting once more. The sweat was becoming collective and Scott couldn't care less with the fact that they both were perspiring even after his shower. Isaac moved his hand down from his chest, continuously trailing down to his navel, where hair was covering it to the bottom, leading to the penis. He circles it gently, grinning when Scott gasped and when his hand felt the wetness of Scott's dick lathering it entirely. He stroked it, not having his mouth escaping his grasp at all. Isaac wasn't going to fuck him, not just yet. He knew that Scott was a virgin and with little to no amenities to give him the safest sex route, Isaac settled with stroking and kissing him until he comes. He wasn't sure he was clean to provide him bareback sex and he wasn't going to risk it. Scott was heaving by now, unable to hold the tightness and contraction of his stomach. The sight of Isaac wearing his white briefs, the stroking of his dick, the kisses and the heat that felt so titillating to his senses made Scott desperate to ask him to allow him to let go. It was becoming a guilty fetish for Scott seeing the tight briefs worn by Isaac, and he couldn't wait to witness more of it if any of what they're doing meant a second saga to this.

“Come, Scott. For me. Let me see you cum, Scott,” said Isaac with growling tone yet whispering and cooing too. Scott groaned and came. Hard. The white ropes that came out of his penis splattered on both their stomachs, with Scott mewling every second he comes out of his cock. Scott panted, completely spent and Isaac kissed his mouth, tentatively and gently, _like how lovers do,_ Scott thought. He had never been in a relationship, and the post-sex kiss felt like it was something that most lovers do, _right?_

Isaac smiled at him, kissing him once more. “I have to go,” said Isaac. He left the warm comfort between the two, and grabbed his jeans off the floor, and picked the Scott's towel off the floor, wiping the cum off Scott's stomach lovingly as well as his. He handed it back to Scott, kissing him. He wore his clothes and soon left, promising Scott that they will see each other soon.

Scott laid back down, not even giving much attention to the fact he was naked and the towel that he was using was applied for wiping his cum off. The blankets thankfully covered him and the oxytocin produced from his body made him tired and stress free. He did not care if Isaac left him like a cheap whore, it was better to be touched by someone he liked than a John.

**~RETURN~**

Derek showered, letting the water laving his body. He was nervous, and Laura wasn't there to assist him this time. And even if he did ask for help, the only thing Laura would suggest was sending him advices that mean so little to him, like “Relax, Der-Bear,” to “Things are going to be fine,”. He expected the water to wash the nervousness away, but only left him more nervous as the time ticked closer and closer to their date. Stiles already showered, and he was prepared for the date, more confident than Derek could ever hope to be. He wasn't into the whole dating concept, except one. One that he wouldn't want to remember anymore. The fact that he asked and Stiles accepted the offer brought his ear flush pink. They parted ways for a while where the silence of both their rooms left them to collect themselves. Derek figured that Stiles was faring way better than he did, knowing that Stiles never cared about his feelings, something he guessed that he managed to have it connately, he presuppossed. He wanted to impress him, and he ruled out the Camaro as a method, as Stiles' interests are completely sporadic and all paid with fair attention by the man himself.

He shuts the valve off, bring an end to his sorry excuse of his methods of having his stress and mind being cleared up of its internal fogging. He dried himself, and went over to the mirror, where he contemplated on shaving his stubble. He never minded his stubble being gone, but will it freak Stiles out? Will Stiles revoke his decision if he saw the bareness of his chin and cheeks? Derek couldn't think straight with all the questions running in his head and he couldn't care less anymore when he finally said the words, “Fuck it,” to himself, and the razor touches the stubble. He couldn't draw back the shaver, for it would only leave a bald patch which would be all kinds of weird. No turning back now. He glided the razor across the stubble, revealing the almost pallid skin underneath it that barely saw the sun these days. Derek almost forgot how he looked like without the scruff. He had worn it ever since the last stage of puberty hit him and man, did it transform him. He would have to refer back to his baby and adolescent photos if he wanted to know the difference in a more crystal clear way. The shaving cream are now gathered on his shaver and he flick it down to the sink, making sure the cream do not obviate his goal on having a clean face. Once done, he washed the razor of its foam, removing it for future use. He washed his face once more, removing the excess cream off his face. He wiped his now wet face dry, and left the bathroom. Stiles wasn't out of his room, and Derek was glad that he wasn't out of his room yet. Derek was beginning to regret the decision he so impulsively contemplated on when he shaved the stubble of his face. He knew that it would grow back, but to correct his mistake at the moment, it was a different story.

He walked to his room, and he cogitated once more, whether it was prudent or not to be wear black, his usual color code. It would be unethical for him to wear black, seeing that Derek would only wear a color that represented his mood. He rummaged through his wardrobe and finally found a maroon henley, something opposite of black and Stiles would at least try not to make fun of. He hoped.

Grabbing a pair of black jeans with some underwear, he wore them and made sure to check that no stray stubble was present on his face and he smelled himself to hope that he cleaned himself as thoroughly as he spent time in the bathroom. The items he grabbed, from his wallet to his keys were all scrutinized fr money and hoping that they do not have to go up the stairs should he grab the wrong keys since the landlord made reports of how the elevator has been malfunctioning these days. How considerate and responsible of him. He sat on his bed, and collected his mind with deep breathing. He wondered how long Stiles would take and to intrude would likely ruin the date since he probably would imply how impatient he was waiting. Long story short, the silence was unbearable to listen or tolerate.

He stood up, unable to wait anymore, even though it has been 3 minutes since he sat on the bed. He went over to his door and left the room, and at the same moment. Coincidental timing. Stiles was wearing his usual flannel – which made Derek wonder if flannels were a staple in Stiles' wardrobe – along with a pair of jeans and hair that mattered little to give care for. All of it seem… so casual, and Derek wonder if he was trying too hard over a small outing.

“Woah,” said Stiles. He approached him, giving consideration over his choice of clothing. “Should I be afraid of this person?” he joked, eliciting a small grunt by Derek, making him turning away to the kitchen, only to be grabbed by Stiles, “Come on, you look good. I mean, the stubble-free look can take time, but I like it,” Derek was relieved with the response and they both left the apartment, with their fingers shyly brushing each other. Derek was wondering should he hold it. Should he grab it and kiss him or something. All the questions just made him hit himself for not being able to explore more time in dating. With his looks, he could have someone, if only his taciturn attitude didn't get in the way maybe experience would have been in his back pocket for great use.

If only.

They walked down, and the elevator was barred, with a caution sign being placed outside its doors. The red and yellow alongside with a complimentary orange making the sign more central brought some faces of displeasure and disapproval from the numerous passersby. They walked past Derek and Stiles with huffs of disappointment, mumbling about how they hate walking 14 flights of stairs to get to their home. They even added the baby excuse as part of their philippic. Derek and Stiles looked at each other, shrugging at the passersby that were in the middle of their typical and trivial tirades.

“So, where do we go?” asked Stiles. Derek was stumped. He didn't think about where to go and no use of asking Laura since he didn't want to be called weird by Stiles. He opened his mouth for his response but nothing came out, feeling slightly, if not, extremely awkward about the fact that Derek had omitted about their place of eating. He closed his mouth, pouting at his negligence. Stiles gave a smirk at him, and rolled his eyes before taking his hand into his and walking out of the building, which was responded by the landlord giving a wide eye look at the pair, and Derek couldn't blame him? For all he knew, he had an indirect affiliation throughout the climax of this 'relationship'.

They walked to his car, and Stiles turned around and decided the place to go. “Let's just make it an impromptu one, alright?” he asked. Derek nodded, not really giving his mind the room to understand as the idea seemed eyebrow scrunching and Stiles continued, “Let's just drive aimlessly around the place and if we see something interesting, we go there, okay?”

With another nod from the stubble free figure, they entered the car and took their respective seats, with Derek helming the driver's seat, and drove the vehicle out its parking spot.

“I can't believe you didn't think of a place to go,” Stiles remarked, scoffing in disbelief.

“I'm sorry,” said Derek sheepishly.

“Whatever, and here I thought it's because of you taking too much time getting rid of the scruff or you're just too busy thinking on how to impress me,” he continued, ignoring his apology. Derek gave a snort in reply, and Stiles laughed at the momentary trick that he had pulled Derek in. Derek shook his head, and his lips gave a vague smile at the small joke incorporated tiff.

“You should smile more,” said Stiles, with a pensive look.

“I do smile,” Derek defended.

“Not enough,” retorted Stiles, “Come on. Don't tell me that _this,”_ he pointed with his motioning finger, “is the so called Der-Bear that your sister call you. It's like some regression for you. Der-Bear evolves into Sourwolf,” Derek groused at the comment, but didn't neglect nor made any attempts to argue about the remark. _I guess I deserved that._

They drove for minutes until Stiles randomly pointed out, “The pharmacy,” Derek raised his eyebrows, not understanding what could be fascinating about a random pharmacy, “Stop by the pharmacy,” he repeated, with resolution in his voice. Derek didn't refute the request. After all, it was just an impromptu date. He parked the vehicle by the roadside, and Stiles unbuckled his seat belt, waiting for Derek to do the same, with the car switched off. Derek was about to remove his seat belt, when Stiles pushed his chest down, planting his lips onto his, inciting an improper breath intake, and Derek was out of breath quickly when Stiles kissed him, as if he was sucking the oxygen away from his body. Nevertheless, Derek slipped his hands onto the nape of his neck, slightly glad of his windows being tinted dark enough for anybody passing by to not even look through, or it would cause scenarios that involve blushes, laughs and growls from who we already know. He could feel Stiles' hand trailing down on the waistband of his pants, teasing Derek's hormones. Before he could see the end of this little tunnel, Stiles pulled back, before leaving the car with a shit eating grin and entering the pharmacy. Derek, felt completely out of his game. And Stiles, _who was he,_ Derek thought. From what he understood so far, he knew that he was the least experienced, if not _the_ inexperienced one out of the two, from what Laura told him. Still and all, Derek would be lying to himself if he didn't feel anything from the heated touches of lips and gripping of necks and waistband of someone's pants.

With his pants tightened by several fractions, Derek looked through his peripheral vision, his mouth parted, and his pupils glancing around his surroundings, as if he had forgotten about the whole part where his windows were tinted. He wiped his mouth, ejected the keys out of its keyhole and left the car, breathing in and took his time to leave the car, not wanting something around his nether regions to be making an appearance. He finally left the vehicle and involuntarily tried not to look at the people who in reality, have no idea of the little make out session they have an impromptu appointment on.


	8. She's Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much, I know, and there isn't Scissac in this chapter, but don't worry, I have reserved great things for their relationship.   
> And this is where the Sterek drama begins.

0.8

“So, why are we here?” asked Derek, wondering why Stiles would pick somewhere that is the opposite of date material. The pharmacy was filled with few people, ranging from the age of twenties to eighties. They were browsing the catalogues in the store, and some looked sick, some angry, for reasons Derek was still unsure of. He didn't see what's so bad about having vitamins that were salubrious and the fact that the grown ups were acting like a bunch of toddlers only brought more irony. _Imagine when they have children, it wouldn't be the child crying over a bottle of cough syrup_ , Derek thought. He saw Stiles, ambling around aimlessly in the pharmacy, walking through the shelves, stopping by intermittently, clearly intrigued by some of the products on sale there. Derek wondered how different it is to buying Adderall than buying any pedestrian medicines to treat other diseases. What difference did it make to him, Derek wondered. How different can colors and brands affect the effectiveness. Weren't they all the same? He made a face just thinking about the number of questions that ran through his mind. From Derek's point of view, they're all the same, but people these days want money without working too much, so plagiarize only change the box cover, with the brand name – that doesn't sound far from the real brand that people usually placed their trust on – and then the quantity sold, with the price range and lastly, the slogan where even the most cliche ones will just convince the naive people that there is in the world.

The pharmacy looked small from the outside, in large part with the small door, but on the inside, it was big and spacious, with shelves stocked to the brim and fridges well filled with an assortment of canned and bottled beverages. The drugstore had basically made sure that the items are well arranged, with the rubbing alcohols to the supplements brands placed under their designated spots, with signs like 'SUPPLEMENTS' to 'SNACKS' written neatly and clearly for the viewers' eyes in bold, uppercase fonts. The place was clean, as it is expected to be. Derek stopped to think if it would be considered a drug house or some place selling weeds if the state of the place was anything but sanitized. And how it would be licensed to open even brought more thoughtful questions in Derek's mind. If anything, the police or authority would indirectly legalize the use of marijuana and cocaine, if it were so.

Derek walked to the aisle where Stiles stands before, his eyes raking the entire shelf for something interesting. Something Derek has no idea what it is. All he knows that the honey brown eyes are glued to the products. He joins the man, with his attention being in synchrony with Stiles. His attention was fixated to the people, where they all lined up to the cashier, with the pharmacist paying attention to them with smiling, patient faces. Working in the library has trained him to restrain himself towards other, because he knew that people have different approaches, like how old people take their time to wrack their brains to get their words across, and how dissociated the teenagers are when searching for books or getting medicine, purely for their own selfish, hedonistic reasons. If it were parents, they would talk politely, with their words carefully picked, not wanting to propagate any obscenities to their children's ear, to which Derek has no point in doing, since New York is filled with crass people, where their mouths are constantly spouting vulgarities to each other, as part of an extension to their frustration and anger. If it were cars honking at you for crossing at the wrong time, or cutting lanes without giving signal lights, or even slowing them down with traffic or your indifference, obscenities are the main staple and accessories to their mind. _Such honesty not needed,_ Derek thought to himself.

“So, what are we here for?” asked Derek, his attention still not really full.

“For our date, duh,” asked Stiles, slightly irked with the question.

“In a pharmacy?” asked Derek, clearly confused with such setting.

“I know, right? Isn't it a great place,” replied Stiles, his words laden with no sarcasm, “As I said, this is an impromptu date. So whatever we do or wherever we go, is all random. No plans, just go there, and then do something. Like what I'm doing now, searching at the items. Who knows, something that can spice up our lives,” said Stiles suggestively, making Derek blush by a tint. The words that Stiles says made Derek wonder whether he actually cared about the choice of his words would have an affect on people. Not that he minded with the word choices, it was just the audacity to say it that threw him off. He could feel the people passing by feeling the same way, or at least somewhere around there. Stiles was unapologetic, that's what he can deduce. Or maybe it's just the effects of Adderall.

Stiles picked up the box with pregnancy test written so clearly for the eyes to read. He examined it, clearly interested about it, “They say that if you have positive on the pregnancy test for men, it's considered that you have cancer,” mused Stiles, before putting back at its original position, “I would try, but pharmacist would probably give the wrong idea. Not that I care, but you know.”

Stiles walked off, moving off to another shelf, where his interest was laid to the condoms and lubes. Derek joined him, albeit with heavy, shy steps. The shelf was filled to the brim and the brands were numerous, from Trojan to KY, Derek wondered whether the difference was as similar when it came to the supplements, where the products are replicated only the packaging is different.

But the shyness was too strong to come up with any solid answer.

“Wonder which suits us more?” asked Stiles, his face too showing hints of embarrassment, “I mean,” he looked around, trying not to draw any unwanted looks and nosey people, “I've never done this before,”

“What, sex?” Derek asked, his shyness dissipating from his cheeks.

“Yeah, I mean. There's this girl in high school I had an insane crush on when we were in 3rd grade. But she always ignored me until the last few days of high school. I mean, I was never mad for her for the playing hard to get attitude or the bimbo act, but I knew it was a bit too late for her to trying to get into my pants,” said Stiles calmly. It was true. To Stiles, Lydia Martin was someone he wanted to give his time upon, but the time span of her feigned ignorance wasn't something he wanted to replace at all. He wasted his time in school to get a girl's attention, and when he finally stopped searching did Lydia pay attention to him, and it only made Stiles wonder if she were to ignore him once more if he paid the same attention before she had incited a conversation with her, “It's a natural thing, you know? When you like someone who doesn't like you the same and you let it be, feelings sort of changed, you know? Like that intimacy only becomes platonic, and very quickly too,” he added, “and when it settles like that like cement, it's hard to crack, you know what I mean?”

Derek nodded, with clear understanding how infatuation can turn into casual love and banters. It's like friends, but only deeper and much more appreciated than having a break up that always ended in scowls and baleful glares exchanged between the individuals, along with useless sidings and alliances to deepen the hatred that was shared. He never saw the idea of that, he never did. Either because he was inexperienced or the books he had read only broaden his scope on the whole I-hate-you-because-you-broke-my-heart thing. If anything, heartbreak is a privilege.

If only grief was one too.

“So,” said Stiles, his tone indicating his intend to change subjects, “Which flavour should we pick?” he asked, clearly unashamed that they're in a public place, asking what fetish should the two of them pander with. Condom and lube purchasing were things meant to be done surreptitiously, to avoid the glares and judgmental looks whenever it is something sexual. Obviously, one would get looks if you were to buy condoms that had XXL labelled on the packaging, either in an aroused state or not.

Stiles ended up picking it with Derek's silent, tacit reply.

**~RETURN~**

The plane landed on the runway, with flight attendants announcing the passengers' manifest arrival. She sat down, with her face clearly turned to the window, not really caring about the flight attendant's little rant about how she looked forward for their future flights. As if.

The lights turned on, and she clutched onto her bag, waiting for the other impatient passengers to leave the restrictions of their seats to claim their baggage. The background music did little to mollify their emotions, with their desire to gain adventure and meet their loved ones extremely strong, that it was almost primordial. The passengers lined up, awaiting the latching door to open. Babies were crying and children were talking incessantly filled the conversations, and she still couldn't care less about the entire trip filled with wailing kids. Baggage, coming out of in various shapes and sizes and colours were fished out of their places, with passengers relieved of having their possessions close to them, even though they were merely few inches away from each other. The distrust was evident on their faces.

The door finally opened, and the long line started moving, with some now moving from their seats, waiting for at least some movement or the crowd to leave before them taking their departure without the claustrophobic space. Some cut in line to move along with them, constricting and slowing down other people's progress.

The crowd finally disappears, and she finally stood up, with her bag now claimed and leaving the aircraft, with words from the stewardess, like thank you's being passed through her hearing. She didn't nod at them, and kept passing by, not really caring if they felt offended of the blatant rudeness. She walked, got her travel documents verified and went out of the airport, with her intention of catching a cab back home being her main importance. She was glad she didn't that the lack of baggage she was carrying made her mission only easier.

She finally got outside, with her eyes now scanning the area, finding somewhere that at least resembled a taxi stand. She was so looking forward to go home and amend things that her scanning only become more desultory. She found her mark, and her footfalls became more resolute. She found the cab driver leaning onto his vehicle, with his old, rugged face desperate for some cash. She pitied him, for the part where cab drivers can only gain so much by luck. They have family and no one really wants to be a cab driver, not by will, that's for sure. She walked to him, his face brightening at her appearance, almost ebullient that a customer had landed on his graces. With a smile, she requested him to send her to Manhattan Street, which the driver seemed unfazed by the distance. He entered the yellow vehicle, with his finger eager to turn on the sign that was placed dead centre on the hood of the car. She entered with her baggage next to her. The vehicle drove off, with careful being the driver's main quality in his driving. She smiled in endearment for the man's eagerness. A rare trait people take in their jobs. Endearing.

The congestion in the airport was soon replaced with a road where cars, lorries and motorbikes were in different direction and distance, and the space was relieving, in her thinking.

“So, long way from home?” he asked, with his voice laced with honesty and the Boston accent thick as he spoke. He glanced from his mirror, with his enthusiasm to serve patent in his eyes.

“Yeah. From Washington,” she said.

“That's where I'm from! Have a family there, haven't seen them in 4 years. Not a day goes by where I don't miss them,” he said, nonchalant with his current problem, “Waiting to save up to see them again,”

“You're not with them?” she asked, perturbed with his stay.

“Got scammed. Got offered a grand job as an accountant and was gonna put my Masters to good use, if it weren't for me being cheated with almost all of my money being swept clean,” he explained. She frowned at his situation, “So here I am, driving people around in New York. And saving is hard, with rents skyrocketing and basic need in the way, you know?” she nodded, understanding his fair share of the struggle.

“So, why cab driving?”

“Hmm? Oh, well. I have no money to buy a long line of suits, let alone have someone to get me a place to stay. Took me almost half a year to get a place and rents that's as low as my pay, you know what I mean? And some days, I have no pay at all. Like today,” he said. She frowned deeper at his life. As she had thought, they can only get by life with luck and clearly with her need for a transportation, she'd reckoned that's as far as luck can get him by. She didn't reply, letting the silence being a great interlude for the conversation.

They finally arrived at her destination, with the roads being slightly jammed since it was still no later than nine in the evening. She fished out a wad full of cash and handed it to him, leaving almost immediately in case he refused.

“Ma'am, this is way too much,” he said, his face shocked with the Jupiter born luck he was going through.

“Take it, go home. See your family back in Washington. You need it more than I do,” and left, leaving the man determined to leave his 4 years of cab driving. He drove off, with excitement and tears pooling down his cheek.

She finally arrived at her apartment, and upon unlocking it, she saw the interior, with the items still intact and collecting fresh new dust, with a side of some small pile of bills on the table. She placed her baggage down, dusted off some of the furniture from their dusted disuse and filled the requisite areas of their items, like bathroom with shampoos, and basic toiletries. She showered, relieved that the water and electric company have not vetoed her use of basic necessities and changed into her pyjamas that were placed in her closet long before she had left New York. Seemed only yesterday she remembered packing her clothes for Washington.

She finally slept on her bed, where she regains her strength to solidify her resolution of being in New York. “I'm coming for you, Derek,” she whispered before letting her eyelids, drooped airtight shut.


	9. Inhale, okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. Really trying hard to get my stories straight and then with new ideas going through my mind, it's hard to keep in under control.  
> Hope you guys understand.  
> Just a bit of filler, and then hopefully the next chapter, I will get to the real drama involving the mystery girl.

0.9

Classes had started for Stiles. It had be three weeks – 20, to be exact – since their last date, and in honesty, Stiles doesn't know what his next move should be. Or when even. Should he initiate the next date? Should he be the one making the next move? Is there a round robin kind of style going on that's an unwritten rule for all people in a relationship. Were the even in a relationship?

Stiles had no answer to them.

The only answer he does have was that the lube and condoms that he bought from the last date was rotting in his room, and Stiles felt as if it was expiring or something. _Waste of money,_ Stiles thought to himself. He figured Derek was loaded, but asking money from someone he barely knew wasn't his custom.

Most of his classes topics were familiar to him, due to his wide curiosity so big that he will read almost anything to throw grief off. Grief from the moment his mother had passed away, not that it matters anyways, since now he has his time solely dedicated to have sybaritic moments with Derek and have grades to impress people with – which he thinks no one would give a shit on. Derek and Stiles' conversation still remain the same, as if both of their lives have not gone through a drastic change. Laura had left New York, to return to Beacon Hills. She squealed in excitement when Stiles retold the tale of their date, and the shit eating grin never became a main sight during her stay that it annoyed the heck out of Derek. Stiles never minded the smile and teasing, but it did nothing to prevent the creeping blush that came on his cheeks when their sex lives became a main topic to Laura.

Stiles nearly choked on his food when Laura asked that. To make matters worse, she sipped her drink casually, like how comedians do when they ask a ridiculous question without breaking character.

That lady needs medical insurance.

He was both relieved and sad that Laura had to leave for Beacon Hills. He very much enjoyed her presence, even if she took her room the entire time. Some of the topics that they talked about were not the same when talked about with Derek, because of his stiffness to open up. Stiles too felt stifled, mostly because he wanted a reply during their talking. It was almost as if their one night at dating didn't affect them greatly, and he wondered if things were going okay or just down south.

Laura had provided nothing to alleviate his panic.

Stiles hardly talked to Scott, mostly because Scott was an oblivious person, which Stiles would never say out loud, for the deadly puppy eyes will make its debut, then encore for him to feel guilty to take back his words. He never got affected to it, but if done repeatedly or at a lengthy duration will may crack his indifferent armour.

Stiles contemplated on taking online courses, since being in a room waiting for his professor to come in is both time consuming and at the same time, nerve wracking. With only a couple hours spare and having everything laid out on a computer screen and his ability to comprehend things quickly, online courses should be apposite for him. Waiting 15 minutes a period for his lecturer/professor to arrive would be frittering a part of his life. He believed that every action will lead to different consequences and sadly, his professor had done a jolly great job for wasting his time and ruining an impression that might cajole him to leave his house and then attend class in the flesh.

He applied for online courses, and the university gladly allowed him to, with their warning that his assignments were to be done on time and grades consistent. Stiles snorted once he left the office. Like he didn't need to be reminded of that the entire time. What he can be reminded was to focus on the pathway set for him and Derek.

He walked home by bus, with taxi fares not tracked by metre and cab drivers beginning awkward – that was almost material – conversations writ out of Stiles' choices in life. He enjoyed the bus. Gave him time to stare at the outside, ponder, like one of those film noir that allowed him to try to see things in the grey area between the black and white. He could lean his head on the window, with earplugs plugged in and cost way inexpensive than the taxi.

He returned home and he knew Derek's not at home. Working at the library every weekday made things slightly difficult to get a sentence straight since Derek came home by the time Stiles was asleep, exhausted with the lexicons and books that he had buried his nose in. His avidity in reading got the best of his intentions.

But this time, it was gonna be different. Changes have been made and he hoped that the alterations that he made will change some things, like having Derek by his side instead of the weekends. Every time Stiles wakes up, Derek leaves him with breakfast cooked, without a kiss or note to tell him that it was for him like couples – at least Stiles thought they were – do.

He showered, with the time in the hourglass full from the top, allowing him to shower, and get a change of clothes for him to ask Derek out, and possibly ask him to go steady with him. He couldn't help but feel stupid for asking the questions, but a cleared conscience with embarrassment is far better than having a tumultuous relationship filled with accusations and blatant framing on the side. Stiles doesn't think arguments would solve anything. Not by a long shot, anyway. Derek was born stubborn and nothing about his personality would change should he bring unnecessary – more like unwanted – debates over trivial things.

But this issue needed to be rectified, Stiles consciously thought.

**~RETURN~**

Derek wringed his fingers at work. 20 days since their first date and he wondered when will be the next opportune moment to ask him out again. He would ask Laura, but knowing her, she will probably get the third degree from her and Derek wished there'd be another way. Kira would help, if only their relationship were a bit more relaxed. So far, both of them have only exchanged hellos and nods at each other and nothing more. Kira usually leaves him alone out of respect, seeing that every time they meet, the only thing he did whenever they encounter was reading and Derek could not help but feel guilty for not fostering proper relationships with people. Boyd would too, but Derek didn't want to disturb him on his solitude. They talk, but their conversations have so far gone on the minimal. Derek would ask Stiles out once more, but his shyness towards the young man stifled his advances. He felt even worse whenever Stiles talked to him, and wondered if he had done it out of compassion or because he felt Derek's apparent awkward silent response. Either way, Derek felt stupid. So stupid that he couldn't help but smack his forehead in the library with his hand while the other was gripping the book. The loud smack attracted the attention of others, with shushes and chuckles being the obvious response. Derek cringed at his action and lowered his head into the book, hoping for some black hole to appear between the pages. His cheeks heated embarrassingly. _At least my words didn't come out of my mouth, that's for sure._

His phone rang – vibrated, actually – and Derek's thought was interrupted by the buzzing of the table. He picked it up, thumbed the screen unlock, and hears nothing but silence. He whispered hello, knowing that he didn't want to disturb the other people. He heard nothing, and before he could repeat his hello, he heard the line clicked and moved his phone away from his ear, inspecting the phone with surprise. He was hung up and for no particularly reason. No _oops, wrong number,_ no _is this Derek Hale,_ no anything, not even a hello. _Huh. Rude,_ thought Derek, and didn't bother to call back, so he set the phone down, not wanting to call back someone with little manners in their stride. _But Stiles has little to no manners,_ he pondered, and he felt like a hypocrite for that sentiment.

**~RETURN~**

“Isaac!” Scott yelled, running after him. Class resumed as normal, and Dr. Deaton was pleased of his return. Dr. Deaton had great hopes for him, and Scott blushed at the compliment. He was describe the boy next door, and he was never mad at people. _The most_ _laid back_ _and friendliest,_ as the class dubbed.

But with all great things comes a stumbling block.

He woke up, with adrenaline coursing through his body and ready to be in class after a few days of not attending class. He was more excited on seeing Isaac, ever since their little intimate moment. Danny was perplexed by his ability to wake up early. It was usually him that dragged him out of his bed, and Scott reassured him with, “I'm fine, Danny-o,” only to bring more confusion towards his friend. He hopped into the shower, and because of his excitement bubbling like an opened champagne bottle, he felt like a bird in their bathhouse, taking quick cursory rinses of their bodies. It was like lightning. Scott basically grabbed the shampoo, lathered his hair quickly, then washed his body, as if Isaac and him made some official date and he didn't want to be late. His stupidity, as he liked to call it, was being overwhelmed by his excitement and he couldn't help but manage to convince himself that it _was_ going to be alright. It was just simple to think that way.

He left the bathroom, with his smiling face in the mirror being the only reason why he didn't need to do much for his face. Danny stood at the kitchen, with his footsteps approaching to see his behaviour, only bringing his eyes to widen when he sees how his unbeknownst resolve driving him to his max. He didn't say anything, though. His confused expression was enough to tell him his opinion.

Scott left the place, bidding his goodbye to Danny. He could hear Danny saying, “…Yeah... See you,” before the door clicked shut. Scott ran to his class, his pace unchanging when he went through the block.

He reached the block, and the class was just filling in. _Would have been a bit awkward if he came too early._ He walked in, and met Dr. Deaton's smiling face, thrilled with his presence. He began the lesson without stalling, and thank god Scott read his downloaded files from his email, for he would cringe at his lack of depth towards the topic.

The door opened with Isaac coming in late, with his apology running from his mouth. Dr. Deaton nodded, with his words comforting Isaac that he hasn't missed the big part of the lesson, and Isaac nodded back, with him heaving a sigh of relief. He placed his bag down, and joined the rest of the colloquium, with his gaze avoiding Scott's. His happy face was neutralized at the avoidance, and he turned back, with his confidence and composure cracking and crashing, but Scott heaved a deep, audible breath, with his mind attempting to pick his crushed confidence that went into a void with a size resembling a canyon. The lesson was becoming slightly incoherent as time passed, but little was lost from the lesson.

“Isaac!” he yelled. Isaac was still walking as if Scott was some sort of ghost, unmoved by his call. Scott persisted to get through with him, and walked through the crowds, who showed nothing but bewilderment, annoyance and startled looks as he passed them.

“Isaac,” he called for the umpteenth time, and finally with his resolution to get him wasn't going to fade away anytime soon, Isaac stopped walking, in the courtyard, devoid of people. He sighed, annoyed and turned to meet Scott's inchoate sweaty body. “Come on, Isaac. Sweating, and all that isn't the best thing that couples do to meet, especially when there aren't people around,” he heaved. He took his inhaler out of his bag, shook it and uncapped it before he pumped the contraption twice, and relaxed at the chemical filling his lungs. His chest lowered substantially, and he capped the inhaler back and pocketed it back in his bag.

“We're not couples, Scott,” Isaac replied nonchalantly.

“I know, but I mea-,”

“No, Scott,” Isaac cut in, not giving room for the wavy hair man, “We're not together. That day was a mistake. I mean, you were drunk and me holding on to you was just all kinds of wrong,. What I said that day. I didn't mean any of it.” he said. Scott's face fell at the confession, “I mean. This is Allison, you know what I mean? She's real good for me,” Scott winced like a kicked puppy upon hearing that, “And yoou and I are just friends. Nothing more. No friends with benefits. Nothing. Just friends,”

Scott stared at him, his voice failing him to rebut the curly haired man's confession, “So, what? I'm like, some cheap whore to you?” he asked. Isaac didn't answer, with Scott's ire growing rapidly. He comported himself to feign control in his voice, before heaving a deep breath. The heaving made his eyes prickle and he didn't need a mirror to know that his hooded eyes were becoming red around the iris, “Know what. I don't need this. It's okay,” he said, his smile forced painfully, “I'm fine. I'm fine. Yeah, I'm real good,” he repeated loudly, “Okay,” he breathed out finally, with his voice at the last word cracking halfway.

“Scott. We can-,”

“Still be friend,” interjected Scott, “Oh, yeah. Sure. I don't mind. I mean. My first kiss meant nothing to me anyway, but it's okay, my second-first kiss with someone's gonna be better,” he rambled. He was becoming like Stiles, thought Scott. Whenever something doesn't go his way or he faces a form of rejection, it's either him doing the puppy eyes or ramble. When he rambles, it usually meant him panicking and feeling his senses going haywire. Isaac frowned at the statement, “You have Allison and I don't want cheating to be part of you know… this,” He could feel the sanity dripping incessantly, and the more it dripped, the more his act of denial turned to anger. Slinging his bag tightly with a sweaty grip, he said, “I gotta go,” and walked off from Isaac. _I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine._

He left the man dressed in grey stripes and jeans alone, his mind too tired and used to care about his feelings, or his own. He needed a break from all the drama that ensued. Just as he felt like he was released from his room made rehab, he felt like he was relapsing back to another figure 8, nothing but depression and unrequited love in it. Isaac was right, he thought. He has Allison. Who want him? Someone who is just as innocent and naive to believe that he was worthy of a crush's love. The confession only left him more resolute to not have Allison walking in on two men – one being in a committed relationship – kissing with another.

_I'm okay. Yeah. I'm okay._

And he could nothing but feel friction from his fingers as he said that. His fingers were rubbing among each other, like as if his skin was burning and he thought that maybe rubbing them would erase things, like an eraser against anink printed paper. You can erase it, but never completely remove it. The words were still written on the book, but with the words uselessly faded.

He could feel his watering, and he blinked rapidly, to fight off the impending salty tears and future worried, concerned looks. His incident only led him to become more taciturn, refusing any kind of interaction, be it casual or not.

_I'm fine. I'm fine._

**~RETURN~**

Stiles walked in the library, searching for Derek. The cacophony of the city faded as he walked through the library doors, with the cabs beeping at regular intervals going soft, like a car radio being lowered of its volume. He knew where Derek was. At the counter, with his legs laid onto the table, burying his nose in books like he always does in the library. The atmosphere was quiet, and he felt that it wouldn't be an apt place to even talk to him. Lunch has just past, and he was quickening his pace to make sure that he wasn't late or something, that is if Derek even goes for lunches at the hour. For someone with a built body like his, considerable amount of food was needed to be taken everyday.

He approached Derek, who was still not aware by his presence until Stiles neared him, surprising him to the point Derek fell of his seat, with a loud crash.

_SSSHHH!!_

“Stiles,” Derek whispered harshly, “What the hell?” Stiles went beet red, contrite of the commotion that had ensured because of his ambush. Derek stood up, clearing the dusts that glued on his black shirt and narrowed his bespectacled eyes at Derek.

“Let's go out. Lunch or something,” said Stiles. Derek huffed before leaving his duty spot, with the door flapping back and forth as he passed through it. Stiles could hear him grumbling softly, and Stiles glanced at the other readers, who were shaking their head and scowling at them. Stiles bowed apologetically at them, some changed their faces to annoyance, some to forgiveness. They walked out of the library, where the strong breeze welcome them, along with the hustle and bustle of the city. Cabs honking incessantly and Derek winced at the sounds.

“So, what do you want?” Derek asked, his tone still showing hints of annoyance.

“Sorry, alright. Gosh, don't be such a sourwolf, alright?” Derek squinted his eyes at the nickname, “I just think we need to go out more, you know? It's been 20 days since the last one, so I thought a lunch would be a nice way of asking for a second date?” Stiles asked, his cheeks growing pink at the offer.

Derek was no different.

His cheeks were growing red at the question. Stiles had basically took his words out of his mouth. Courage was something Derek wished Stiles always had, even though it's not the most obvious trait, but to build it up for a while to ask, was something endearing.

“Your classes?” he asked.

“Online courses. Just registered,” Stiles huffed, “Can't stand with turtle like professors,” groused Stiles annoyingly, “So come on, we're like boyfriends, right?” he asked, “We're gonna do this or what? Or do I need to do this?” Stiles leaned towards Derek's personal space, bridging the gap between their lips and Derek relaxed when their lips made contact, heat elevating by a notch. The people passing by hasten their paces, probably disgusted while some were undeterred by the public display of affection. Derek held Stiles' neck, gripping it hard enough to make sure Stiles doesn't lose his balance, seeing as Derek being the taller one. Stiles propped his hands at Derek's waist, with Stiles' chest pressed onto his. He parted his lips when he felt the swipe of Stiles' tongue, welcoming the slick organ to meet with his. They parted, respecting their locations and the public and Derek was breathless, as if his time in the gym couldn't beat the seconds that spanned when they kissed. It would take more than a few seconds of gym to leave Derek in the same state of hebetude. Stiles backed by an inch, the expectancy of Derek's response being his main goal there.

“Yeah,” breathed Derek, “Lunch it is,” Stiles breathed out slowly, before smiling softly at Derek, and walked first. Derek joined almost a second later, his face looking down a bit to avoid the public's reaction. They walked away from the library, with hands hesitantly touching each other.

“Hey,” Stiles began, “You don't mind me holding your hand, right?” Derek shook his head, allowing his hand to interdigitate with his. Stiles tightened his grip for a second, relaxing Derek from his awkwardness. It was working until Stiles asked the next question without any hints of shame at all.

“When are we going to use the lube and condoms that I bought three weeks ago?”

Needless to say, pink was dotting on Derek's cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got scripts to write for my school, so that's why my updates have been kind of slow. Hopefully, when all that's done, I will resume the real drama.


	10. It's All in Good Nature

1.0

"So, how's things at the library?" asked Stiles, taking a bite of his burger. Derek ordered his own set of meal, with his hunger not be sated quite fully to the brim.

"It was okay," said Derek honestly. Nothing dramatic happens when working in the library. The closest drama that Derek ever encountered and got involved in was pushing Stiles by the shelf during their first few days of meeting, a moment Derek cannot help but have his ears growing pink. He choked on his food, bringing Stiles' body to an alarmed mode. Stiles was about to handle Derek when he puts his hand up in the air, signalling him of his normal condition.

"You seriously, okay there?" asked Stiles worriedly. The public gave short glances at them, giving only half of the attention to the drama that ensued.

Derek takes a sip of his drink, wanting to alleviate the coughing fit. He clears his throat before replying, "Nothing, I'm okay. Just thought of something that's all,"

Stiles stared at him, not fully believing at the moment, before moving to Derek's side of the table. Derek didn't move, and was slightly thrown off when he saw Stiles waiting for him to move. He had presumed that he wanted to go to the bathroom. Stiles quirked his eyebrow, before moving Derek himself, joining him by his right. Derek could hear some huffs and groans coming from some ladies, who uttered some audible lines, with words going, "... Why are all the good-looking ones gay?"

"Tell me," said Stiles, his mouth nearing Derek's ear. Stiles' voice surprised him out of is eavesdropping, unable to believe that Stiles would be this upfront in public.

"Stiles," said Derek, a bit conscious of his surrounding. Stiles backed away, his hands now moved to his thigh, while the other for the curly fry. Derek blushed and was glad of Stiles' ability to restrain himself because Derek's hormones were spiking up with his touch. To stop it, Derek placed his hand hesitantly over Stiles', who interlocked it tightly, with their fingers making sparks.

"It was when we first met," blurted Derek impulsively.

Stiles' fry stopped on its way to his mouth, "What?"

"I was thinking about the first day we met. You know, the part where I nearly got you killed in the library for calling me that name?"

"You mean Sourwolf?" Derek grumbled at the nickname, eliciting chuckles from Stiles, "How could I forget?"

"It was the only drama that I've had in the library," To put it simply, Derek would have said that Stiles' appearance brought the most drama out of him. Not since the incident.

"Ahhh...," said Stiles, "So, basically you're a masochist," Derek groaned at the young man, which made Stiles snicker harder when he saw the frustration emitting from Derek's ears. Stiles' hand gripped Derek's calloused ones, signaling that it was all in good nature. "Thanks for injecting fear there,"

"I didn't mean to do that," admitted Derek. Stiles backed away, his eyes raking Derek suspiciously, like he was doing an inspection towards body images. Derek easily felt uncomfortable, and squinted his eyes when Stiles didn't utter a word out, "What?"

"You're all different. You sure you're my boyfriend?" he asked jokingly.

"We are, right?" said Derek. They never really made it official, and Derek wondered if Laura would chastise him for being an idiot to not make the advance of asking to officialise the relationship. He could feel his cheeks heating up, and he subconsciously gripped Stiles' hand as a form of awkward relief.

Stiles kisses his cheek affectionately, boring his eyes into Derek's hazel ones, "Of course we are, Sourwolf. Unless you don't want it?"

"No," interjected Derek almost immediately, "I mean, yes I want this," Stiles nodded at him, hands still interlocked at together.

"Okay, then. Now enough of getting sappy, let's just eat, alright?"

Derek couldn't agree more.

**~RETURN~**

Derek walked back home with Stiles. Stiles stayed with him in the library till late night. Derek opted to not use his car, citing the short exercise being a good thing to start his day. They passed by the numerous buildings, with people going in and going out of the building time to time. They didn't hold hands, probably because Derek was too shy to even get his hand to touch with Stiles. He was still new to all this, and it has been quite a while he has been in a relationship or a fling.

His phone vibrates and he fished it out of the pocket of his jeans. Stiles kept walking, almost unaware that Derek had been pulled back by a phone call. He answers the call and places near to his ear, and said, "Hello?". It was the same number all over again, unknown, and no response at all from the other end of the line. Stiles realized the absence and turned around to see Derek standing idly on his own with a phone in his ear. He walked to him, feeling confused of the sudden intrusion. He knew that Derek wasn't the kind to receive phone calls, and the only time he would most likely see being called was Laura, but if it were so, Stiles would deduce that Derek would look more exasperated than... if he could describe it, suspicious and intruded.

He walked to him, with his worried expression masked on his face, "Derek, you okay? Who is that?"

The line clicked abruptly, and Derek grumbled of the unknown caller. It was like the Kyle Ravenscroft case, where now Derek felt stalked for unknown reasons. He pocketed his phone and walked off, brushing off the incident as best as he can. Stiles walked with him, but his silence only being more strong and open for Derek's response.

"I don't know, okay?" he said vaguely, "It's happened twice now,"

"Twice? When was the first time?"

"At the library, like almost 20 minutes before you showed up," he replied.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me more about this?" he asked, skeptic of Derek's vague replies.

"What?" Derek stops, his attention completely riveted to Stiles, "You think I'm having an affair?" Stiles could feel his hackles rising. He didn't mean to cross a line and the tone that Derek was using only brought a bit more terror to his mind.

"N-no," said Stiles, "I mean... Like well... I mean, you know," fumbled Stiles, his words failing him, "I just thought, you know...,"

Derek huffed disbelievingly at the lack of solid response, moving off. Stiles huffed too, his eyes rolling and staring at the sky, mentally cursing at such stupidity of his implication. He ran after Derek, who had walked a considerable mile from his position, "Derek! Wait up!"

Derek walked on, feeling a sense of betrayal at the whole thing that a simple phone call can cause a huge rift between a new relationship. He can hear Stiles' voice but pressed on. He was sulky and was numb to feel ashamed of his attitude and behavior. He soon felt a hand grabbing his forearm, ceasing his movements.

"Derek! For goodness sake! We already passed our apartment, and you're still gonna play the kid card on me?" Stiles half-yelled, his forehead sweating. Derek looked around and realized that he was off track. He in fact did pass his apartment and he mentally cursed at himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. "Please, Derek. I'm tired from catching up with you, can we please just get back home? I don't want to go in without you, alright? I'm sorry for my assumptions, okay? Just please," Stiles was panting, with his other hand latching onto his knees for support.

Derek exhaled deeply, holding Stiles' hand as they walked back to their home. He was sort of pleased of hearing Stiles calling the apartment as theirs. It was heart-tugging. He couldn't help but feel sorry for letting Stiles catch up to him till the brink of exhaustion. They didn't say anything and walking up the stairs to their place added more to Stiles' exhaustion, another thing Derek couldn't help but feel contrite about. If he hadn't sulked and let his emotions run high, he wouldn't have let Stiles panting on his way up to the stairs.

They finally made it up to apartment and Derek unlocked the door, allowing the couple to go inside. Stiles walked in slowly, his exhaustion still apparent. Stiles passed Derek, walking into his room for a moment. He closed his door, leaving Derek alone for the moment. Derek entered the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water to relieve of the stress that was mulling around his mind. He didn't mean to get sidetrack with his emotions. He just never thought that someone he had grown to like would go as far as to feel suspicious.

_It's all in good nature, though._

Derek sighed, and he left placed the glass of water on the table, not really in the mood to wash it. He walked to his room, and he took his towel to relieve himself of the tension. Hopefully. He passed by the Stiles' room and tried to ignore his inner voice to apologize for his unruly behavior, but he suppressed it with might.

He walked into the bathroom, peeling the black shirt over him. He unbuckled his pants, removing the pants and boxers in one go. He entered the cubicle, not caring to place his shed clothes into the basket. He entered the cubicle, and turned the valve. The shower made contact with his body and he placed his hands on the wall. He then takes one of hands and runs them through his black hair, trying to sweep of the excess water that was getting into his face.

_It's all in good nature, though._

"It's all in good nature," Derek breathes shakily under the cold spray.

**~RETURN~**

Stiles rested his head on the pillow, trying to get the weariness out of his system. He could hear the shower running and he felt tempted to join Derek under the shower. He was tired, too. His body perspired after his mighty attempt to get Derek s attention under one night.

He didn t mean to cross a line. He was feeling possessive, that s all. He had never been in a relationship, and to think Derek causing infidelity on their newfound relationship only felt more instinctual than visceral. It was like filling bring tarts to school. You made them, then bring it to school, and feel this sense of protection of making sure that they all look intact, and perfect. He chuckled fondly when he remembered the last time he cried in preschool over the slice of pie his mother had made for him.

He remembered the time where he felt his mother s kiss on his forehead, telling him to have a great day in school. She even packed him his lunch box, filled with a slice of pie tha the both of them had made together while his father was still at work. He felt this instinct to protect it, and so in lieu of putting the lunch box in his bag, he carried it with both hands.

His mother never told him to put it in his bag, and was a smart decision too, Stiles thought. With him currently looking back, he had realized the lesson behind it.

He remembered going to preschool where he usually met up with Scott. Scott was always excited to see him, literally. They would share lunches together and Stiles was so eager to display the apple pie that he and his mom had made that was currently tucked into his hands. Scott mirrored his excitement, unable to contain himself because he knew and acknowledged how well Mrs. Stilinski cooked.

He couldn t wait to show the pie so badly that he wouldn t let go of the lunch box, even if it was lesson time. He refused to let go of it despite the constant insistence of his teachers to put it somewhere safe. He was unmoved by their advice and finally they gave up on him. The teachers always had a hard time with Stiles, anyway, and Stiles snickered mentally at their valiant attempts to keep a spastic person like him under control.

Lunch rolled in, and Stiles was practically shivering in excitement, and Scott was too. The teachers rolled their eyes and looked to the ceiling, wondering how in their years of service to children did they ended up with two boys who were almost like kindred souls. They went to the lunch room, with Scott bringing in sandwiches made by Melissa, Scott s mother. Stiles loved Melissa, especially since she treats him like he was her own child, something he needed after his mother s untimely death.

He opened the lunchbox and god did his face fall when he saw the inside. The pastry was opened crumbled, the filling was oozing out, but the crust and everything was still intact. Scoot didn t seem to find any problem with it, and Stiles tried too, but proved too difficult when he reached home. Scott and Stiles ate the crumbled pie, with both of them glad that the ruined constitution didn t contaminate the taste in any way. Stiles kept himself composed and he couldn t bear to hold his tears when his mother picked him up from school.

He sobbed in his mother s embrace, who cooed him with soft words, and when she pushes him gently to ask why, he told his mother pitifully about the pie being ruined. He remembered how his mother smiled almost defiantly when Stiles dilemma was told to her.

 _"Stiles, if there s one thing about love, it s that it breaks apart sometimes,"_ his mother advised fondly. He never fully understood what she was implying and continued to weep.

 _"But mom! This is pie we re talking about not love,"_ he remembered yelling at her, something Stiles regretted doing towards his mother. Shouting. Regardless, he could still remember his mother s calm expression when he said that.

 _"Think of it this way. Did it still taste the same when you and Scott ate it?"_ Stiles nodded at the question, even as far as to comment that Scott was more excited of the filling rather than the outside. Mrs. Stilinski laughed at the comment and Stiles chuckled at Scott s perky attitude, _"Then take love as the filling. The taste is everything we put through, so whatever happens on the outside, the inside always tastes the same, okay? Because that s love. Now, how bout we have some mac and cheese, alright?"_

Stiles forgot about his problem when his mother mentioned mac and cheese.

He picked himself up to a sitting position and he took his towel and walked out of his bedroom. He saw the bathroom door across his bedroom s. The door was slightly ajar, with only a minute space giving out light in the dark corridor. He walks towards it, with his fingertips now touching the door. He hesitated to walk in Derek naked but he whispered the same words his mother had told him.

"Whatever happens on the outside, the inside always tastes the same. Because that s love,"

He opens the door slowly, and sees the contoured back of Derek s. The glistening of the water droplets made him look arousing and he couldn t help but have his breath hitched upon seeing that. He fumbled with the hem of his shirt and removed the plum colored shirt of off his body, before slowly and shakily touched the button of his pants. He pushes the metal button back, and the two folds separate, giving a preview of the black boxers he had been wearing today. He shucked his pants off slowly, thankful of the lack of loose change he owns in his pockets and how the shower was loud enough to block out the pants pooling down to his ankles. He lifted his legs up and down, leaving him half naked with his boxers.

He pulled the black boxers down slowly, his hesitance now turning into shyness. He manages to pull through it, his black boxers now joining the crumpled heap of his and Derek s clothes. The towel too was carelessly placed and he walked out of the fabric floor, his foot making contact with the cold tiles. Derek was perched on the wall with his hands, his head bowed down to his feet, and his hair covering his peripheral vision removed the imminent awkwardness out of the equation.

He walked in the cubicle, and with a both arms, he extended to each side of Derek s and he could feel the goose pimples growing when the cold specks of water touched his almost bare skin. He hugged his torso and he could feel Derek s surprise reverberating through his chest. Stiles chest was now wet and soon his entire body was drenched. Derek was caught off by surprised but soon relaxed, with one hand touching Stiles clasped ones. Stiles placed his face onto Derek s back by the side, not caring whether the clear liquid was going to blur his vision temporarily.

They stood like that for minutes and Derek turned around with moving Stiles hands to just above his butt crack. Their groins were millimeters away from each other and Derek s hand now holding Stiles side. Stiles was staring at Derek s tone chest and he could see the splattering of water when the shower hits Derek s back. Like fireworks. He was staring into Derek s eyes, taking his observation to a huge notch. Observing the jawline, the lips and the droplets moving down his smooth skin.

"Hey," said Stiles. He gave a small smile, and he looked at Derek s lips, that was wet too by the water.

Derek stared at him back, taking in the moles that his face has. He leaned forward slowly and subtly, and their lips inched closer with Stiles eyes closing progressively. Their lips brushed intimately and Stiles closed the gap between them. The kiss was reflexive and Derek this time made full use of his facial muscles. He can feel the pushing of his lips as it made contact with Stiles, moving rhythmically with Stiles . The kiss was soft but sensual, and he could feel his cock twitching when their lips connected once more, only this time, their attempts became more brave. The twitching of Derek and Stiles cocks inadvertently made contact by their heads, and Stiles breathing became erratic to the point that his clasped and locked hands went to palm the small of Derek s back. The grip of Derek s hand onto Stiles side was tightening and the body heat only intensified when Stiles stepped forward, meshing their bodies into one.

The electrical sensation was all thanks to their cocks rubbing against each other and Stiles breathing turned into moans, unable to contain his hormones from growing haywire. Derek tested the waters further, where he licks the top of Stiles lips sneakily and suggestively, causing the throaty moan to become more clear and clean, with Derek s tongue taking its ripe opportunity to make the kiss a bit dirty. He trails his hand down to Stiles ass, and cupping it, making Stiles legs quiver at the hedonism.

Derek s tongue with consent blended well into Stiles warm mouth. The trade of saliva completely sensual that Stiles could feel himself coming solely by kissing and untouched. Their tongues were fighting against each other, with them wrestling and contending to see which one can top the other. It was obvious that Derek was winning, seeing how he managed to catch Stiles at a vulnerable and defenceless moment. He thins his lips, exposing a little bit of teeth, and grazed the bottom of Stiles lips, engendering a coherent moan from the young man himself. He nips the lips gently, and pulls back until the said lip retracted back after enough distance was made. The lip escaped the the pearly white grip, and Stiles felt himself quivering embarrassingly at the dirty move.

"D-Derek," stuttered Stiles. He seriously couldn t keep himself together, and Derek took his words as a sign to add more filth in their intimacy. He moves Stiles against the glass wall, using it as a support beam to make sure his legs don t completely give way to the floor. The hands proceeded to knead the flesh and Stiles senses kicked into overdrive when his hands grazed past the butt crack and then to his thighs. Derek purred at the sexual contact and he moves his right hand to touch Stiles sensitive and aching cock. They were both out of the shower range, and that itself made the heat more intense. The convection was becoming exponential and Derek cranked the heat more when he wraps his right hand around Stiles cock. Stiles gasped at the touch, and their kiss became lewder with Stiles mewling erotically, making Derek crazy as his tongue dove deeper into Stiles mouth. He can sort of feel the ghost of the saliva touching just outside his mouth and god, did he wish it was more than just saliva.

Derek moves his right hand, stroking the cut cock slowly, and because of the said action, Stiles moaned louder, and Derek couldn t help but grin proudly of his Midas touch. He strokes a bit faster, and his other hand was running through Stiles hair. The soft pull brought a sadistic side to Stiles and he wished his mind could come up with a coherent order to his frayed nerves to command Derek to tug it harder.

Derek kissed his lover fervently, and he increased the tempo of his strokes, and he could feel Stiles legs being as wobbly as ever. The stomach that made contact with him was clenching and sucked in the more Derek speeds up the stroking. He was enjoying this all to well, and the tugging of hair, lips and cock felt so good that he could feel his own cock leaking at the obscene moans and reactions Stiles incited.

Stiles moved his arms to Derek s shoulder, his body unable to do anything but to cling onto his shoulder for support. He was getting close and the gradual increase of stroke speed made it all the more apparent when his moans became louder and lewder, before he finally comes, drenching Derek s hand with his load. Derek could feel himself coming, just moments after he felt the come of Stiles hitting his torso and cock, and he was surprised that the warm load was enough for him to come untouched. Both were panting, as if their chests were pressed tightly by an invisible pressure, and their mouths were split by a millimeter as they gasped for air.

Stiles knees bended slightly after his release but never did his mouth escape Derek s. Their kiss became slightly celibate and toned down with their lips doing the last bit of work of the day.

"We..." panted Stiles, "... Should do that again, sometime,". He kissed Derek once more and then another before tightening his embrace with him. Derek s seed coated hand joined with his free one, holding the sides of Stiles lovingly. Derek snuggled his face into Stiles damp hair, and hummed his approval, with his body and mind too rendered and enjoying every bit of the post intimacy that they had just done together.


	11. Chapter 11

1.1

Stiles wakes up and then snuggles next to Derek with his hand clasping Derek's softly. He hums like a child satisfied with his toy. Derek was still asleep and Stiles cannot help but smile just looking at the calm look of his. If only Stiles sleeps that way, but no, the usual sleeping pose he, or rather people, find him in is a half drooling man. He's glad that last night was not filled with snores, for Derek will kick him out of the room without consideration towards feelings. The sight before him makes Stiles want to kiss his lips so badly.

He hears the vibration of the table covering Derek's calm breathing and Stiles looks up to see Derek's phone ringing. He scrunches his eyebrows confusedly. Surely Saturdays are days where Derek don't work. The library usually operates half its day. He picks the phone up and blinks in process when he sees that the caller is unknown. _Who would call him?_

He slides the phone to the answer icon and presses the phone next to his ear. He sits up, with his whole body now sat at the lower half of the mattress, where Derek's bare legs are. "Hello?" he asks. His eyes widen by a fraction when he hears a slight change of breathing at the other end of the receiver and then repeats his previous salutation.

"Who's this?" the person replies, with some sort of harshness growing out of the lady's voice. It can't be Laura. Even Stiles will know the sound of her voice right of the bat.

"Stiles," he replies, "Derek's boyfriend. Who's this?" Before he can get his answer, he hears the phone click shut, and Stiles lowers the phone and stares at it in disbelief. The phone vibrates again, and Stiles immediately answers without a second to waste.

"We need to meet," orders the voice.

**~RETURN~**

Stiles lowers the phone by his side the moment the lady tells him everything that he needs to know about their eventual meeting, eve the part where he is told not to appraise Derek about it. He looks at Derek and then the phone, before bending over the table to place the phone back. He lays next to Derek, and starts thinking of what or who this person may be. An old flame? Possible; otherwise she wouldn't have had her breath gone to a gasp. And if so, why so secretive about her identity, especially the number. Surely old flames get together to reconcile or have a good time together.

He hears Derek waking up and he shifts his body to meet Stiles, with his arm now draped over Stiles' bare torso. He tucks his nose into Stiles' neck and he can feel the assail of kisses sensually and slowly kissing his neck and collarbone. Stiles moves and hugs Derek by the side, and captures his lips, ignoring the morning breath of his. He will probably never get tired of kissing Derek, even though he's his first. He just basically lost part of his virginity - if stroking his length till he comes, count - to him in the bathroom last night, and there's this unwritten high that he wants to boast about, but probably never will since that will just give him weird looks, and some people exclaiming TMIs, even Scott.

"I have something to tell you," says Stiles. He chose to ignore the lady's orders of not informing Derek. What good will that do anyway? The lady isn't someone to demand a ransom from him. If she were one, she wouldn't have lost her shit and hang up before calling again. If anything, it sounds like she was desperate and then crumbling, if that makes any sense. The kissing stop and Derek looks at Stiles worriedly. Derek never likes these moments, where when there's something great, there's bound to be something that pulls him back to square one. He loathes those moments.

"Someone called. Just a few minutes ago before you woke up," he summarizes, "She asked me to see her. Today," Derek looks at him, wondering why would anyone request for Stiles if she had to go through Derek's phone, "And she's told me not to tell you of this, but I don't think she's in any position to tell me what to do. If she has conditions, then I have mine. And I thought that, since we're together," he twines his fingers with Derek's, "I figure that trust is something we should have. Coz I don't think you take well with secrets between us,"

Stiles kisses Derek slowly, hoping that the note of his words were punctuated well deep into Derek's mind. He straddles over Derek, indifferent to the fact that they are now naked under the sheets. Derek moves his hands through Stiles' limbs and clasps onto his shoulder. He kisses back with the same speed, letting their tongues each other. Stiles can feel his heart beating rapidly and their nudity only increases the adrenaline pumped into him.

Stiles wants more than just kissing and with Derek's length growing harder by the second, Derek starts aligning his cock to his butt crack. He brushes the girth of his cock by the crease and Stiles gasps in the kiss, like the contact - bare of any slickness - feels just reminiscent of a bucket of cold water being dumped on him.

"Wh-what are you doing?" asks Stiles. Stupid him, he knows what Derek's doing. He's dry humping him, yet the question comes out of his goddamn mouth anyway.

Derek pulls back and stares at Stiles' honey brown eyes. He can read that Stiles is nervous but yet wants him to continue anyway. He moves his hand to Stiles' bare hips and moves to the extent that Derek is not straddling him. He kisses Stiles' lips with passion and Stiles runs his fingers through Derek's soft ebony hair. Their tongues fought but Derek's back pocket experience allowed him to tip the scales to his favor. Stiles relaxes as Derek takes control and the anticipation of what's to come only intensifies.

Derek moves his lower half slowly, grinding their lengths to slight pain. Stiles is getting hard as Derek gets bolder with his rubbing and Derek moves his lips to his collarbone. He nips the thin skin of his collarbone, and Stiles gives lipped moan at the feeling of being possessively marked. The thrusts don't stop, however, and Stiles can feel some sort of slickness between the two lengths going against each other.

Derek lowers himself down to Stiles' nipple where its almost as hard as a pebble. He licks one of it, and sends a riveting sensation to Stiles. He gasps his moan and whimpers when Derek starts nibbling on it. Derek has never done it with a man, and the moans that Stiles sends out to his ear give him more audacious attempts to progress and not stop. He twines his finger with Stiles and nips the nipple harder, and the moans get louder and more shameless.

He kisses the treasure trail of his and then buries his nose into Stiles' private parts. He inhales deeply and revels at the natural odor. He looks at Stiles from his viewpoint, and can see Stiles whimpering miserably of the receding mouth work that Derek is giving him. He licks the tip with a swipe on Stiles' tip and Stiles tries to contain himself when he moans surprisingly loud.

"Holy shit," gasps Stiles. Derek takes his length and sucks on it with eagerness. Stiles' heart beats with unfounded pressure, and the more Derek sucks, the more rapid and fragile his chest is becoming. His heart beats as if someone's going to barge in their door. Derek doesn't stop and the eye contact he holds with Stiles makes the thought in his mind more delusional. Derek's attempts become harder and Stiles holds on to Derek's hair tighter, bringing a muffled moan from the older man. He licks the underside of Stiles' length and Stiles give a shameful, pleasuring moan at the feeling. First time sex for Stiles, anyway.

Derek can feel his cock pulsing with wet pre-come and the feeling along with Stiles' soughs make him braver to get more out of him. He can feel his mind going a little haywire, like the sex is controlling his body rather than the opposite. He moves his hand to Stiles' nipple and circles it. He can feel Stiles' body shivering in pleasure. He gets more daring when he moves the said finger just millimeters away from Stiles' hole.

"Fuck, you're really doing it? Shit, shit," mumbles Stiles. His words get incoherent when Derek finally prods the hole and looks up to see the younger man getting into the feeling. He lets go of Stiles length with a pop and moves his mouth to the hole. He licks it and Stiles jerks forward, almost hitting Derek's face. "Fuck, sorry," flusters Stiles. Derek moves up and kisses Stiles' lips, and then moves back down, this time; he holds and grips Stiles' hind legs. He licks it slowly and moves the tongue upward to the end of his butt crack and the more he feels Stiles writhing by doing things like having his voice crack with each speaking attempt, or sensing the bedsheets being pulled towards him, a little repetition is done to satisfy his hearing needs. He knows that Stiles is feeling a little awkward, but then again, first sex has always been awkward.

"Hey, hey," says Stiles when he feels Derek's teeth biting on the cheeks of his butts, "You're supposed to love the merchandise, not abuse it!" Derek moves upward once more and kisses the young man, letting their tongues crash for a moment, "Do it,"

"You sure?" asks Derek. Asking the question only makes his mind a little crazier, since his slick length is just waiting to claim its partner's hole.

"With the lube and condoms we bought few weeks ago? Totally," comments Stiles. Derek kisses the jawline of Stiles then sits up. He sees his cock leaking almost profusely and the idea of going bareback is just tempting for Derek. But this is Stiles' first time, and he has to feel obligated to respect it. He moves to the drawer, where it holds the lube and condoms that they had purchased and opens a pack of the condom, where he feels the cold liquid on his fingertips. He slides it on his length and props Stiles' legs, where his hole is waiting for Derek's tip. He sees Stiles taking in deep breaths; comporting himself to tell that sex is normal, and fun. _A little painful, but fun, right?_

Derek wastes no time and enters into Stiles. Stiles' almost complains at the feeling but bites back his word to prevent Derek from second guessing his endeavors. Derek moans loudly when he feels the warmth of Stiles' hole and moves slowly, hoping that the lube that came with the condom was enough. He slides out and then back in. This goes on for a few times, before Stiles gives a loud moan. Derek tries again, and his moan become throatier and Derek grins.

He bends down and tucks his head next to Stiles' head, his thrusts never-ending. He relishes at Stiles' moans and moans whenever his thrusts become bolder. The sensation just makes want to try other methods but knowing the two of them, their time together almost seem inexhaustible.

"Fuck, Derek. Ca-Can't, hold much- ll-longer," stutters Stiles. Derek hears it, but doesn't reply to the litany of words that comes out of Stiles' mouth. His plunges get harder and the hands on Stiles nipple gives him the clear to let go. Stiles cries out his release and Derek can feel the coolness of his come touching his stomach. He keeps going and he soon comes with a growl. He comes in the condom and slides out, removing the latex out of his length; tossing it to the bin placed just centimeters away from the bed. He can see the white liquid covering the length and moves his finger to it, taking a lick of the taste. He sees Stiles moaning upon the sight and pulls Derek down to catch his lips in a heated kiss. Stiles can taste the faint bitterness as he cups Derek's face, and hums longingly.

~ **RETURN~**

The pan sizzles audibly and the two had just finished their showering, with Stiles complaining how painful his hip feels. Derek could only bury his face deep into Stiles' hair in response, and Stiles figured that the pain is little to be squeamish about. Forget the temporary pain, he just lost his virginity; something that Stiles can't help but boast and be giddy about. Derek rolls his eyes affectionately, and both agreed that their make out session should not be out to Laura, for they will both never hear the end of it. They both groan intermittently when they thought of the countless ways Laura can rub it in their faces.

Stiles is sitting down on the chair with his attention paid towards the phone of his. No messages, no calls, nothing. His dad did tell him to call once every few days, and is thankful too, because New York and Beacon Hills have a three-hour discrepancy. It may be 11 in New York but Beacon Hills will be filled with the sheriff expressing his annoyance of being woken up by his son; particularly when his son just had sex with someone as enigmatic as the Hales.

"So what about the lady on the phone? Should I meet her?" asks Stiles while he spins his phone bored. Derek nods at Stiles, thinking that the silent calls that he has been experiencing should stop and getting a new number would be a real hassle. He doesn't have a lot of people in his contacts, but the number is enough to bring Derek to an inconvenience.

"I figure we should meet her. I don’t like the idea of being stalked by someone who's too afraid to give me more than a word," he places the bacon strips on the plate; then passing it to Stiles where picks it up and takes a bite of it. He nods upon hearing the suggestion, and personally, someone stalking their relationship feels more than a deterrent to their relationship. He wonders deeply what the prospect of their encounter will be.

He takes another bite of his bacon.

**~RETURN~**

Danny is worried.

He wakes up, sees Scott and wakes him up when breakfast is ready, then leaves the place before going to class and then comes back and finds Scott either sleeping or studying. However, today, - as well as the days transpired before that - Scott has been acting different. He's awake before Danny is, and the roles reverse when Scott cooks breakfast for him and pulls Danny out of bed. Danny looks at him, before patting his chest when he's gone; praying that he isn't having a seizure or some dream that he cannot seem to escape.

He looks at Scott's smiling face, who seems like someone had injected (overdose is more like it) with some happy-inducing drug to his system, because Scott has been acting oddly excited over the past few days. Danny gets up from his bed and then walks to the kitchen where he sees the food all plated up for him. He had to admit, the cookery is great and all, but Danny can't seem to shake the unnerving fear of the story behind it.

Sure, Scott has been a great pal, but he has never seen Scott in this light, like he's almost impermeable to anything that can depress him. It's almost. . . refreshing. He sits down and eats the food that Scott had solely prepared, his eyes never leaving Scott. Sure, there are days where he sees Scott as a friend, and good thing that he manages to live with someone who has sensitivity; unlike some men these days. All about the sex and little about the intimacy.

Scott leaves the place and Danny sits alone; wondering what's got Scott so perked up in the morning. Vacation doesn't come in for at least another month and surely that sole reason isn't what got Scott so exuberant.

He takes a bite of his bacon.

**~RETURN~**

Scott walks in his class and thankful that only Doctor Deaton and some students have arrived. He's not late, not that he has to worry since he woke up earlier than Danny, and manages to cook up breakfast. It was psychological, ever since Isaac's refusal to be with him, he reinforces the mind of his that Isaac matters little to him. _He really doesn't matter to me,_ an example of how Scott manages to get Isaac out of his mind. He pays attention to class and every time Isaac tries to spark up a conversation with him, Scott skillfully meanders away from the conversation, with a line of excuses all lock and loaded for his use. He convinces himself every time that the reaction he receives from Isaac don't matter to him, because that's what the relationship has always been; nothing. Just friends, for now. Distant but friends, just not really friendly for the moment.

The routine is simple, Scott clocks in and then out when he finishes his class, leaving no space for him to give Isaac at least a minute to say what he wants. He shouldn’t be the reason that Isaac's causing infidelity, and for what reason too? He's dating someone, and Scott should settle his mark higher, and that's what he's been trying to do. He can see Isaac sneaking glances at him during class and Scott has well honed his skill of ignoring people, something Stiles would be proud of.

Today is no different and he walks in with Deaton smiling at his student. He smiles back and the class begins with Deaton going through their upcoming practical which Deaton has generously decided to reveal some guidelines. Isaac sits behind Scott and his attention has been distracted both by Scott and the guidelines. Scott, however, seem unfazed by the staring. He's busy copying notes, and his attention hasn’t been disturbed.

Class ends, with the students leaving and Scott packing his belongings. Isaac slacks behind, trying to wait for the opportunity for Scott to leave so he can talk to him. Deaton has long left the room with his bag and some students have decided to stay behind for a few minutes to chat before the next wave of students come in. Scott finally slings his bag on his shoulder and leaves his seat. Isaac strikes the iron while its hot and manages to catch Scott before leaving.

"Scott," calls Isaac. Scott turns around and looks a bit hesitant to talk with him. One can tell someone's not in the mood for a conversation when he peers his surroundings, like he's waiting for a chance to get out of it. Isaac manages to close onto him and Scott tightens his grip on his bag. Scott can feel his mood disappearing almost instantly but he tries hard to deport himself to a cheery mood. He almost succeeds, if not for the blue eyes looking at him with confrontation. "How are you?"

"I'm great," replies Scott a little too quickly. His eyes won't meet with Isaac's as his eyes were to busy trying to find a path to escape to. Isaac moves his hand towards Scott and Scott flinches upon the contact made. Scott moves back and Isaac lowers his hand when he sees the man back away. Scott still doesn't meet his eyes and his hands grip his bag tighter than before. "Look, I really have to go,"

"Is this about last time?" asks Isaac, "Because I can tell yo-,"

"Nope," cuts Scott, "I really have to go. Look, great talking but Danny and I, uh, w-we have a d-date. Right, we have a date," Danny is going to kill him for this.

"A date?" asks Isaac. He frowns at him. Not at the act, but the idea of Scott being taken by another man.

"Yeah," perks Scott, "Look," he checks his watch, "I really have to go," and walks out of Isaac's way quickly. He runs off, leaving Isaac frowning in disapproval. He can feel his mind wiring in anger over the act. An act sure, but effective at best.

**~RETURN~**

He walks back to the dormitory, with his bag still slung on his shoulder. He knows that Danny doesn't have class today, and he probably have no reason to anyway, knowing that Danny is smart as hell. What kind of hacker would he be if he wasn't smart? Scott hurriedly walks back, in disbelief that he had just used a ruse to tell Isaac that he's dating Danny. He has no feelings, especially intimate ones with Danny.

_Do I? I mean, sure Danny's hot and all. He's nice, he's got the looks, and I mean. . . Gosh, what am I saying?_

He opens the door and sees Danny, shirtless. Scott marvels at the set of abs that Danny has and wonders what does he do besides going to class. If all those days in lacrosse back in high school weren't enough, Scott wouldn't know what is considered 'enough'. Danny is busy typing with his attention seemingly carefree as the laptop is placed on top of those taut muscles. The lower half of his body is covered by his pants and Scott walks inside and sets his bag down, and sits down on his bed; his eyes never moving away from Danny. If only Scott didn't have thoughts of Danny in more than just a friend kind of manner, then maybe he wouldn't be finding himself to be a peeping Tom.

If only.

"What's up?" greets Danny, his eyes not really giving attention to Scott (thankfully).

"I told Isaac we're dating," blurts Scott dumbly. Scott slaps his forehead in retaliation after saying it out. It gets even more intense when Scott starts laughing nervously and abruptly, like he just told the funniest joke of the century. Danny stares at him, his reaction, however, seems to be the opposite of Scott's. He frowns with worry and settles his laptop down on the bedside table, then walking to Scott. He holds Scott's hand, and can see Scott settling down and more or less shutting down when the bout of laughter subsided subsequently.

Scott breathes in, and grips Danny's hand with some pressure. He can feel himself composing momentarily before sighing deeply at his past behavior. "I mean. You're really attractive, Danny, and knowing what I just blurt out to Isaac like a few minutes ago changes my mind about you. I feel like an idiot,"

They don't talk for a moment, their hands still touching each other in silent solace. Danny can hear that Scott seems to be calming down, and the deep breathing that Scott does helps him to find the equilibrium that he had been needing for the day. Scott closes his eyes to collect his thoughts before looking at the window, where the day seems to still go on despite his momentary breakdown.

"I'm sorry," says Scott.

"It's alright. I mean, it's not like you really have feelings for me, right? It's just the breakdown talking to you,"

"Yeah," chuckles Scott, "It's just the breakdown, I guess," He tightens Danny's hand once more, hoping that maybe what Danny suggested was in fact true. Scott thinks for a moment. Maybe it had been the breakdown, but to be truthful, the time he had spied on Danny while he was showering and the attraction he had been harboring in silence only solidifies the time where Danny has been sort of a soulmate for him, excusing the belated epiphany of course. Not to mention the times where Danny follows him to places despite the hassle. He looks at Danny, who gives him a smile and Scott can't help but feel like kissing those lips of his. He can't believe what those thoughts lead him to.

He really does like Danny, and he really wants to kiss him.

So he does.

He catches Danny's lips with unfound confidence, and cups his face with his free hand. Danny kisses back and Scott really knows a good kisser when he feels the partner takes the rest of the job with his own style. He pushes Danny down onto the floor gently and lets his hand explore the skin of Danny's torso. The firmness is unimaginable as he finally slithers his hands from the torso to all the way to the hands of his, interlocking them as they kiss languidly. From the pressing of their lips to the swipe of a tongue, it didn't take long for the both of them to have a tango of tongues.

**~RETURN~**

They left the apartment with their hands locked. They passed the landlord, who is as surly as he can be, surprised when he looks at the couple. Never thought that he would play the matchmaker in his life. They left the building and were unsurprised of the crowd outside. They walk away, not really in the mood for the Camaro being in use. Don't get them wrong; having a vehicle is great but with New York being a metropolis of vehicles rather than buildings, pollution is safe to say delayed without their partaking of driving for today. Besides, the place mentioned isn't as far as it seems to be.

Derek holds onto Stiles' hand; never letting go of the younger man. Stiles busily occupies himself with the city, as if every day there's something different about the city. That's the thing about New York, you will never see things at a single angle. Every time you look at something, be it the same thing you see or not, there's always a different perspective or idea about that particular thing, and you can never realize whether it's new or not, whether it has been there for a long time or just recently placed. Derek internally smiles at Stiles' wandering eyes, and if it were a night setting, Derek wouldn't have to mind the people walking past or towards them.

They arrive at the place told, and it's alright, a coffee lounge with little people inside. It has brick walls as the interior setting, with tables and chairs thin as sticks for furniture and baristas walking around and conversing with the customers. Neither Derek nor Stiles have been here, and they walk in carefully. Though the crowd seem non-threatening and are of normal citizens, Stiles and Derek look like a couple of fishes out of water. They look around, but also feeling like a couple of idiots because they have no idea who they are meeting.

"You sure this is the place?" asks Derek, clearly annoyed.

"Positive. Look if no one is here, then mind as well we get out of here and just have the day to ourselves, alright?" suggest Stiles. Derek nods and not long after the suggestion comes a lady carrying a bag dressed in florals. Derek squints his eyes at the lady and mentally groans at the lady wishing that his nightmare would just stay nothing more than an illusion.

"Paige," says Derek grimly.

"Hello, Derek, Stiles,"


	12. Chapter 12

1.2

**"** Who?" asks Stiles.

Derek's mouth hinge open and looks back and forth at Stiles and Paige. He shuts his eyes almost airtight, hoping that someone pinches him and tell him that the lady is just some misguided lady who happens to know them way back somewhere, like the library or something. He opens his eyes and sees the two people looking at them, waiting for a proper answer. He exhales deeply, and looks upwards to understand what life is pulling and pushing him through.

"Stiles, this is Paige. My ex-girlfriend," replies Derek with the 'ex' emphasized with heavy inflection.

"Didn't realize you'd gone gay, Derek," says Paige jokingly, "He looks handsome. Not bad," Stiles coughs nervously at the comment before looking at Derek.

"Kill me now," comments Derek, "What are you doing here, Paige?"

"Well, I finished my studies and I thought of getting back together, and I see you batting for the other team? Don't tell me you had forgotten abou-,"

"No," denies Derek. Paige raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed with his denial.

"I'm sure Stiles will be happy to hear it when I-"

"Paige," grouses Derek, "Don't," he looks at Stiles hesitantly, not really wanting to ask him to leave immediately nor does he have the doughtiness to talk with Paige. He closes in on Paige and lowers his voice, "We broke up. Under your terms,"

"I did it for a reason, and that was studying," Derek rolls his eyes, his words all at a loss as he doesn't seem to be able to convince Paige of this situation. Stiles looks at the two of them, not really sure whether is there something to interrupt or say. He clears his throat, and suggested to buy some coffee and leaving the two for a moment. Derek tries to refuse but Stiles had already left before he could get a word out. Paige looks sympathetic at Stiles, not really in the mood for this either, and seeing the affection between the two only drives her to either end this or just break the two of them apart.

The two sit while waiting for Stiles and Derek tries not to look at her. It is awkward, having to meet someone whom he had broken up with returning to see that he now bats for the other team. He did love Paige, sure, but now with Stiles, he had to move on. Besides, Derek had long moved on from Paige. If only Paige could see things differently.

"Look, if I had known that you had fallen in love with Stiles like months, maybe I would have left you alone. But no, I have to find you and give you silent calls to tell you that," explains Paige. Derek looks at her in disbelief, unable to fathom that she cannot seem to see the method of pursuing him.

"Silent calls, Paige. How am I supposed to know who you are when all I have been receiving is _silent_ calls from an unknown number?"

"Unknown number? I thought the silence is enough, or do I need a rundown on our relationship to give you the bigger picture?!"  exclaims Paige. She plops back down to her seat and huffs a stray hair out of her face, "Look, I still have feelings for you, Derek. You being gay, its just a phase, right? I mean sooner or later, you'll leave Stiles and then be back with me. Simple as that,"

"We're adults, Paige. And between the two of us I didn't realize the one who's just finished her studies become the delusional one," comments Derek.

"Not when my parents already have plans for the wedding, I am not," retorts Paige reflexively.

"What?"

"My parents," he holds Derek's hand, "They agreed that the wedding is next month, and I already have the dress picked out," Derek looked back in disbelief, his ears feel numb to the message that was sent out to him. Stiles is still waiting in line and Derek really hates the situation that he has been put in. Paige has no idea the amount of days they spent together; both Stiles and Derek, and the idea of her feeling that she will come and be waltz into Derek's life once more bring anger and a slight sadness of the predicament.

"I won't leave Stiles," confirms Derek. Paige looks at Derek, slightly hurt of the declaration. "I care about him more than you know, Paige, and I will gladly step down the altar if I have to be with him,"

"Of course you'd say that. That's why our parents agreed to the idea before the fire," Derek's eyebrows went down, clearly displeased of the mention of his family. Paige leans in closer, "They agreed that we'd marry, right after I finish my studies,"

"You're lying,"

Paige takes out a piece of paper from her bag and places it on the table, "Signed. 2005. Need I say more?" Derek looks at her with suspicion before taking the paper. He skims through it, before looking at the bottom of the paper. He recognizes the signature and instantly discern it as his mother's signature. His confidence wavers when he tacitly admits the signature and looks at Paige with distaste before looking at Stiles. He's just one person behind his next order and Derek places the paper down on the table.

"Do you not care of my happiness?" says Derek before picking the paper up once more and leaving the conversation hanging. He grabs Stiles before he could even place his order. He is about to leave the place when he pulls goes back to Paige, "Don't hold your breath on getting me married because I have no idea who you are," and walks back out grabbing Stiles home, his mood crushed to bits.

**~RETURN~**

They return home, with Derek walking ahead of Stiles. Stiles didn't mention anything about the meeting with Paige and Derek seems irked to almost no end as he holds the paper in his hand. Stiles didn't talk with Derek. He did, at first, but with the constant silence as his reply, Stiles slowed his pace, and Derek didn't seem to be bothered about his purposeful inability to not keep up. They walk up the stairs to the apartment and Derek enters without sparing a single second for Stiles to catch up. Stiles manages to catch up, but when he finally enters the room, he can hear Derek's door slammed shut. It's 24 minutes past twelve, and Stiles figures that they won't be going out for the day. Not with whatever Paige and Derek had discussed. Stiles enters his room and wait for a moment where the air is breathable for the both of them.

Twelve-thirty turned to one. And one turned to two. Then, three. And Stiles can no longer sit still in his room doing nothing. He walks out of his bed and goes to the door, opening slowly as if he's leaving into Derek's room. He walks towards Derek's door and slowly peeks through the miniscule space of his room. Nothing is damaged, which brings relief into Stiles' cognizance. He widens the door and sees Derek laid on the bed, his hands becoming his pillow. He walks in and closes the door behind him gently, hoping that his presence doesn't alert him. Derek's eyes are fixated to the window, his body present but his mind absent and elsewhere.

Stiles lays down next to him and Derek moves his arm to drape it around Stiles' shoulder. They lay in comfortable silence, and Stiles' finger traces circles around the blanket. He soon gets bored of his small activity and then moves his arm to wrap around Derek's torso. Derek breathes in slowly like his consciousness has just returned from his train of thoughts. Stiles kisses his cheek, and Derek tilts his head to have his eyes meet Stiles' and he presses his lips with Stiles.

They kiss celibately, the idea of sex not really apposite for the day. "You okay?" asks Stiles.

Derek breathes in before shifting his body to align with Stiles, "I don't know,"

"It's gonna be fine, alright? I'm here," assures Stiles hopefully. Derek nods and places a chaste kiss onto Stiles' lip, wanting his mind to feel the same as Stiles did, "Hey, I love you, you know that, right? I'm still going to be here with you,"

"I love you too. And you promise?" hopes Derek.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,"

Derek groans audibly at the Harry Potter reference before the two chuckled. "Weirdo," says Derek before he tightens his grip on Stiles, the comfort of the two being enough than what has happened in the city. They lay on the bed for god knows how long, with their threads of thoughts running freely in the four walls of Derek's room.

**~RETURN~**

"So, you guys broke up because of her studies?" rehashes Stiles, trying to process meticulously the story Derek has just told him. Derek nods with his finger pressing the button of the television remote. The volume is lower than the audible tone, notably because the shows are of prosaic ones. Stiles' hand is locked with Derek's with his fingers rubbing mindlessly against Derek's. Derek doesn't seem to be bothered by it and Stiles' continues the semi-ticklish contact, "And your parents agreed that both of you get married?"

"We were teenagers," explains Derek, "We were head over heels until she wanted to leave. Then the fire happened, and then I became that Derek before you came in," Stiles nods, and didn't speak for a moment. Derek's slightly confused, wondering why Stiles never ask about the fire. Instead, he sees Stiles continuing to play with his fingers, like some baby fascinated by his father's genes and structure, "You're not gonna ask about the fire?"

Stiles' movement stopped and cants his to meet Derek's eyes, "Should I?" Derek flusters for moment, his words unable to leave his lips, "I rarely evel tell anyone about my mother, and I don't see why you should too. If you want to tell it, go ahead, but if you want me telling you about my mother, then that will probably take a while for me to retell it to," Derek's lips thin at the statement, "What I'm trying to say is that you should make it an obligation to tell people about what happened to you and your family. Just because we're in a relationship doesn't necessarily mean I'm asking for your innermost secrets,"

Derek nods, his reasoning seem all cogent. They didn't speak again, and probably don't need to, because Derek too doesn't want to seem burdened to tell the story to Stiles. It should just be of history to him and those involved.


	13. Considerations

1.3

Derek walks alone to work without his car, and goes on to cross the street before reaching the huge building. The day with Paige is extremely harrowing, especially with moments where he’s not sure why Paige would cling onto selfish hope that she will be the one with Derek, and by extension, even as to let their marriage be certified without his consent. Sure, he was head over heels for the young girl, but things have changed. His parents are now gone, and he had moved on.

Just why won’t she see that?

“Derek!” calls out a voice. Derek turns to see Paige all dressed up nicely walking to him. Derek huffs before walking on, not bothering to stop for her. He really doesn’t want to deal with this, and to see Paige once more makes him feel a little aggravated that she doesn’t seem to make Derek more distressed than before. Paige catches up to Derek, who doesn’t seem surprised that Derek is mad at the lady.

“Derek, you can’t run away from this forever!” shouts out Paige. Derek ignores her, hoping that just by ignoring her will allow her to stop this theatricality. She doesn’t; as she walks on and finally catches up with the man. “Derek, why are you being like this?”

“The question is: Why are _you_ being like this? What we had, it was in the past,” says Derek with a frustration and desperation breaking through his façade. Paige shakes her head and goes on to touch Derek’s hand, to which Derek flinches at the contact. It’s almost as if he’s afraid of the lady, but more towards the disgusted kind of fear. For someone who has been described beautiful, Derek has never expected her to be the kind that will get under your skin.

“My parents will be here in a few days, and we will be married,”

“You clearly weren’t listening. You’re not making me choose between the two of you,”

Paige closes in on Derek, “Come on, Derek. Stiles has only been what, your boyfriend for less than a year? You’ve been doting on me for nearly a year in school and now you want to ditch your dreams for some guy whose way beyond your league?”

“He’s not,” snaps Derek, “And don’t call him that, Paige. I swear, this isn’t like you,”

“Well, a lot has changed and you don’t really know me,” retorts Paige, “Just think about it. This is what you’ve wanted, right? The girl of your dreams to be with you for the rest of your life, just like you’ve asked?”

Derek has once thought of that; that Paige will be the girl of his dreams and almost undoubtedly declared that he wouldn’t dared to date nor cheat with another person. Thankfully, he didn’t but with her words cutting through him, and his face flashing hurt all over, it almost seems that Derek is out his wit’s end, and trapped knowing that both of his family has acknowledged that their relationship will blossom to the day they tie the knot.

“I really hope you take it into consideration, Derek,” says Paige before placing an object onto his hand. She gives the man a kiss, and then walks away into the New York crowd. Derek watches her walk away without giving him to argue vehemently that Stiles is his only one, and when Derek opens his hand to see the object, it only solidifies the doubt that Derek never thought he’d be his own personal devil’s advocate.

A gold band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my new Sterek story called Repayment.


	14. Let's Put This Distance Right Here.

As Scott walks to his class after so many days being with Danny, he has never felt more free from the idea of being alone. Someone to give stability and also, a bed away to see his boyfriend. Just thinking of the word makes him want to say it, like this neurolingustic urge to say it and roll it like at the tip of his tongue.

“Boyfriend,” he mutters happily to himself.

“Who’s boyfriend?” says a voice behind him. Scott jumps with a scream that echoes across the hall when he hears the voice, and Isaac looks at him with an amused look, as if the unintentional scare gave way to a smile that slowly creeps on to his face.

“Don’t do that, Isaac,” says Scott while catching his breath. He places his hand on his chest before giving a nervous laugh that soon blew out into full blown laughter. Isaac joins in the laugh before the two composing themselves, “Where’s Allison?” he asks good naturedly.

Isaac stares at him for a moment, before chuckling for a moment, “How was your date with Danny?” he asks back, avoiding the question.

Scott, who’s confused about the change of topic, scrunches his eyebrows before answering, “Um, well. He and I are a thing,” he replies honestly. Isaac nods at him; looking everywhere but him when he hears the declaration, “You still haven’t answered my question, Isaac,”

“Doesn’t matter, Scott, he replies before tightening his grip on his bag strap, “You have a good day, McCall,”. He leaves Scott, but not without Scott grabbing his shoulder, turning the man around to face him.

“Where is she, Isaac?” he asks with worry creeping into his eyes. Isaac breathes out, his mood really crushed when the question is repeated to him.

“I broke up with her,” he replies, “Because of you,”

**~RETURN~**

Derek returns home with a doubtful look on his face. Stiles is at home, with his laptop probably glued to his eyes by now, knowing that he has applied online courses that make his schedule looser and relaxed not only for Stiles, but for Derek too, as quoted by the former. He walks in, and drops the keys in the bowl, and sits down on the sofa, relaxing his body of the long walk that he has voluntarily chosen to take.

Stiles comes out of his room and smiles when he sees Derek. He walks to him before giving him a kiss to his lips. Derek kisses back, but could feel the strange yet stomach churning sensation that is running through his system. He pulls back and sees Stiles rather unperturbed by the shift of mood. “I’ll get us some dinner, alright?”

Derek simply nods, trying not to feel like anything’s wrong and even adds a smile to Stiles. Stiles only buys half of it, but even him too can sense that something has shaken him. Trying to shake the feeling away, he walks into the kitchen, where he starts preparing a meal for the exhausted man.

Derek walks into his room, removing his leather jacket and then sitting on the bed, where he fiddles with the given golden band. He doesn’t like its presence, nor does he like the story behind it. Every object has a story behind it, and the one he holds before him bring only painful memories that led him to this day. If he looks back at it, he will only see the moments where he has to cope with his separation with Paige, and then the fire and then everything else that has led him to this point, if he excludes Stiles of course.

_I really hope you take this into consideration._

And he is. He can’t just say no, because what he feels is conflicted. Paige’s parents are coming in a few days, and the sick feeling of doing this to Stiles only makes it worse, and surely lying to his face will make feel more of a heartless monster than he already is. He ponders on his decision, should he join Paige or Stiles?

And the idea of him being torn is as worse as being having to love somebody.

He gets up, places the gold band on the nightstand and walks out of the bedroom, where he sees Stiles cooking. The least Derek could do is probably just tell him that things have to be on hold. By things, he means the two of them, and that will be slightly difficult, since he’s probably has to stay with the man for the rest of his time awkwardly. Moving is an option, but that will bring only distress to the practical side of him. If anything, it will bring him more tiring jobs than just the library.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice Derek’s entrance as he continues to stir the contents of the pan. He, too doesn’t seem at ease at all. Derek sits down on the chair, where he watches the look etched on Stiles’ face, deciphering the meaning behind it.

“Stiles,” calls out Derek with a whisper. Stiles perks up at the call, and focuses back on his stirring, now with focus. He smiles at Derek, but only for a short moment before returning to the passive look.

“I’m a problem, am I?” cuts in Stiles out of the blue. Derek peers upwards, shocked by Stiles’ quick but astute judgment. Stiles looks at him from the stove, and watches Derek without casting a hesitant look at the man. Derek knows he can’t lie to him, and looks back with his own holding gaze. “Look, I’m not going to be the one telling you what you should do, Derek. It’s your call and it’s your happiness,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy being with you?” asks Derek, his voice rising slightly.

Stiles, however, doesn’t seem bothered nor fearful of the rise of his voice, “Because you’re doubting, Hale,”. He turns the stove off, before walking to Derek, “It’s okay, though. I’m okay,” he holds onto Derek’s hands before looking at the fiddling of the fingers. “The gold band will look good on the both of you. I mean, when you get engaged, I mean. Has she . . .,”

“Yeah,” finishes Derek, “she has,” Stiles nods at him solemnly, before giving him his best fake smile at him that Derek can already tell that he’s trying to feign.

“I think it’s best we stay friends,” states Stiles, bringing in the final blow to Derek’s heart. Stiles looks down and then away to his left, “Your food’s ready,” he says before leaving the man standing in the kitchen alone.


	15. Last Phonecall

Sleeping could not come easy between the two. Stiles and Derek sleep separately and the distance that has been put between each other bring restlessness that even words couldn’t describe the level of it. Derek sleeps on his side, staring at the vacant spot that coldly makes contact with the man. He brings his hand to smooth out the fabric, and only could only discern the chilling fabric that dares to call it his own bed sheet. Stiles fares slightly better than him, with the restlessness only coming on once every hour. He’s gotten tired of it, and he soon opens his drawer to fish out a bottle of sleeping pills. He consumes a tablet with water, and dozes off when the effect kicks in. He doesn’t want to know what Derek feels at this point, and so doesn’t he want to feel what _he’s_ feeling at this extent too.

The next day comes a moment where Derek wishes he hasn’t woken up and with March nearing April, the new routine stays the same. Derek eats his breakfast, whether prepared by Stiles or not, goes to work then comes back and has dinner, again, either from himself or Stiles, and then bedtime, with a shower of course. Every night, Stiles consumes a tablet of sleeping pill before dozing off, and Derek has no knowledge of his consumption of such substance. Derek has no choice but to fight through the same fidgety sensation in his body to get a good night’s rest. Their conversations have been kept minimal, with Stiles always on house watch, something Derek always wonders if ex-partners are allowed to bring or invite each other to the library for some recreation. Probably not, Derek thinks.

Paige has been keeping her appearance regular to Derek, meeting him at the same pathway to his work during the weekdays until one day, he finally reunites with his family. He hates the smile that he so effortlessly plasters in front of them, and the more he does it, the more he realizes that his mind has gone into mutiny, where it so rebelliously urges to say the truth of what their daughter has been up to for the past week. Coercing a party that has no interest in being with someone who has left him over her studies. Not to say he would date a dumb person, but under certain circumstances, he could not avoid any of the feeling much longer.

Stiles too, has been distant, he has been giving minimal words, like a dying cancer patient who’s just too tired to give care to his worried family members or his own life. He only acts normal like an actor whenever Derek is alright, and he shouldn’t though, he tells himself, because just showing how much he is okay only shines the denial more until it becomes apparent. His calls with his dad has become more frequent, and with the fact that online classes have become something that he’s solely relied on, Stiles’ dad unashamedly asks him to return to Beacon Hills; an offer Stiles has yet to give his verdict on.

Returning to Beacon Hills may be a viable choice. He has nothing here for him. New York, now that he sees it, is just too urban for him. There are streets where he hardly hears the bustling and there are moments where he’s just drowned by the noises and footsteps that trample on the streets with resolution. But leaving, will only mean defeat to Stiles’ definition. He loves Derek, but leaving the relationship out of love? That’s a decision he has been vacillating. The simplicity of Beacon Hills or the urbanizing New York.

Out of love, is better than leaving for nothing.

“Hey dad,” he calls his dad through the phone.


	16. An Unexpected Bet

Derek returns home, with the brooding sensation that something is amiss. “Stiles?” he calls out. There is no answer from the younger man, and he tries to shake off the feeling like it’s nothing. The entire place feels different and the lights of the kitchen is turned off. No sounds of the shower turning on, no nothing.

Sure, Derek has noticed the salient things like how Stiles has perked up whenever he talks to him, and how reserved and quiet he has become, which is extremely unlike of him. Derek disregards them being normal consequences of their breakup but tonight, the difference is more obvious and the silence that permeates the room only makes the worry in Derek’s heart concrete.

He walks into the corridor and sees Stiles’ door open ajar. Strange, Derek thinks to himself. He has never left his door open so freely to the view of others. He walks closer to the room, and witnesses the small things that break Derek’s heart as he sees the room of Stiles.

The bed has been the same, and so is the nightstand. What stands out the most is the content of the wardrobe being emptied, with nothing inside. His laptop is gone, and the insides of the drawer is bare, as if no one is staying there anymore. He sees an empty pill bottle, to which Derek picks up and sees that it’s a bottle of sleeping pills. He swallows thickly at the sight of the orange bottle and then continues to find every item from his bags to his clothes all emptied like a holocaust has just occurred in such small space.

Stiles’ left.

Derek figured that will happen as much. Every ounce of feeling Stiles has expressed after the break up only screams denial whenever they talk about it. Saying that it’s fine has never made it across to the fragile mind of his and the more he ponders about it, the more regretful he becomes on not doing much into reassuring that everything will be okay. He walks out of the room, and closes the door gently, before returning to his. He returns to his room with a listless look, and stumbles another thing he has never expected to see.

Stiles in his room, sitting down.

“Stiles?” says Derek. Stiles is wearing casual clothes with nothing but a white shirt that has blue for its collar and jeans that fits his waist line just fine. He looks at Derek with folded lips and waits for Derek to walk in the room before shutting the door behind him.

“I guess you noticed the empty room of mine,” he says. Derek doesn’t say anything, and he needn’t to anyway, for the silence itself was the reply he needs, “I can’t stay here anymore. You and Paige getting married will bring me as a distraction to the whole picture, and if you two move in . . . well, I won’t be much trouble to you both anymore,”

“Stiles,” says Derek but is cut off by Stiles.

“I really wish you both the best, though. My train leaves later tonight,” he says, “I have nothing here, and Beacon Hills is actually what I favor. A simple life,” Stiles stands up, nearing him, “I really wish I didn’t meet you, Derek Hale,” he says. Derek could feel his throat go dry at the words, “Because you have been so much more than I wanted things to be,” he places a soft kiss on Derek’s lips and lets it linger for the last few seconds of their time.

He pulls back, “Um, the sheriff. I mean, my dad. He’s gonna pick me up soon, so I need to go,” he says before leaving the room.

Derek himself has never felt more empty in his life.

**~RETURN~**

Paige’s parents are discussing about the wedding that has yet to be held soon. The guests are the particular topic that they’re going on about and the more he sees Paige’s satisfied face, the more Derek couldn’t not help but rid Stiles of his mind. For someone who’s so cocksure about being back with their crush, the desired effect stands out to be less and opposite of that.

“Derek?” Mrs. Krasikeva calls out to him, “What’s wrong?”

Derek looks at Paige’s parents, who show worried looks at the young man. He sees Paige, who doesn’t seem to bothered by the looks cast upon him. He stands up and says, “Sorry, I can’t do this,” Paige nearly drops the envelopes that were held in her hands in shock. Paige’s parents couldn’t seem to understand the sudden declaration, “Mr. and Mrs. Krasikeva, I can’t marry your daughter. You see, I’m in love with someone else,”

“AHA! Pay up, Jeffery,” says Mrs. Krasikeva who opens her hand openly to her old husband. Paige and Derek both jump at the sudden proclamation, “Thank you so much, Derek. With this, I may just be able to get the new Prada bag on sale,”

“Wait, what?” exclaims Paige, “Mom, dad. What’s this all about?”

“Oh, dear sweet Paige,” says Mr. Krasikeva as he stands up to give his wife the money, “You can’t really expect Derek here to _just_ get married because you went almost half a decade over your studies now, can you?” His wife whoops excitedly at the money given to her, “Besides, we prefer Derek living a happy life, rather than being forced into wedlock,”

“But the paper you’ve signed,” argues Paige.

“Is just a paper,” says both Mr. and Mrs. Krasikeva, “In case you haven’t realized, Paige. Derek’s parents have passed away, and Derek now has found happiness in . . .,” he stays quiet for a moment, “Who’s this person you’re in love with, Derek dear,”

“Stiles, sir. He just left for Beacon Hills last night,”

“Ah, well. There you have it,” Mr. Krasikeva finishes, ending the entire conversation before walking out of the room with his wife in hand. Paige seems completely in shock at the entire words her father has just said and stays there motionlessly as the two leave both Paige and Derek. Derek wastes no time before he leaves the room, and straight for home.

He has just wasted time with his breakup, and this farce of an engagement, and he plans to not hear an apology from Paige as another way to stall time.


	17. Epilogue

Derek has never felt more impatient in life when he the train makes its way to Beacon Hills. It has been almost too long since he has returned home, and many of the times, he has wished to return home for the purpose of coming back; to reconcile with his past that his parents are gone, and he has moved on his grief, but every fruitless attempt to return has made him wonder when will he ever return to the simple life of Beacon Hills.

To him, living the simple life always leave the best results. Simple story, simple deaths, and simple consequences. There's no beating around the bush when it comes to the simple life, and Derek this time, have come to terms that he's only back for a simple reason.

Stiles.

Since the little - and unexpected bet - that has been pulled off by the Krasikevas, Derek packed his bags and spared no time for checking whether he has enough clothes, unmentionables or even his toothbrush being packed into his backpack. He didn't even bother turning the electricity off of his appliances when he leaves, citing that he has enough money to pay off the bills, just to see one man and one man only. He fumbles with his hands nervously and for all time's sake, he has never bothered to grab Stiles' phone number during their encounter.

Never in his life has he expected the ease of getting a train ticket, especially at at time where in near April, the train station has little to no customers, but things will definitely change when summer vacation begins. The only people heading for California are the ones who decide to let life take hold of their destinies and Derek agrees as he was one of those wayward souls that has decided to let go of his insecurities and make sure no one is there to stop him from doing so.

He stayed in his seat with his legs switching positions alternatingly. He feels his mind on the verge of a mental breakdown because for all the mistakes he has done, he has never imagined a moment where he can make amends for it. And the more he thinks about the amends, the more he realizes that he's not only amending his relationship, but also reconciling with the past that he has shun away from.

The train stops finally at Beacon Hills with Derek almost immediately picking the bag of his up and waiting by the door. The moment it stops is the moment he alights and walks away to the center of the train station. Time is earlier in California, and he heads to the entrance of the train station, where he holds his hand up for a cab. He gets one, and wastes no time telling the driver to drive to Beacon Hills.

**~RETURN~**

Stiles unpacks the last of his clothes, and sets them into the wardrobe. His dad stands by the door with arms folded and an amused smile used on his face. Stiles notices the look of his father, and narrows his eyes confusedly with a smile on his face. "What?" he finally asks.

"Nothing," shrugs his father, "Just happy you're back,"

"I knew you'd miss me," he comments before placing the bag in the closet.

His father chuckles at his rejoinder, before admitting, "I guess I can let that one slide," Stiles rolls his eyes with a smile, before giving his dad a hug. "You sure you want to be here?" he asks seriously.

"I do," he replies, "I don't know about you, but New York is overwhelming,"

"So they say," his father remarks.

"I like being here. It's where mom is, and the simple life is what I crave for, you know?" His father nods understandably. He does get it. 100% of him comprehends the feeling of being close to home, and seeing and hearing Stiles using his mother as an excuse isn't something to disregard because the attachment between the two is strong and he can't deny that everything Stiles does is all for the family and less of himself.

"Come on, let's get some burgers," says his father.

"You're just using my return as an excuse to get food that I basically ban, huh?"

His father laughs, "Obviously,"

**~RETURN~**

The ride to Beacon Hills was filled with Derek impatiently asking the driver to drive faster, to which the driver almost felt unnerved by his inability to stay calm for at least 5 minutes. The urge to see Stiles is something he can't escape and just letting him taking his time will only make him feel more fidgety than before.

The yellow cab finally reaches the small county, and without sparing a second glance, the man gives him a hundred dollar, to which the driver almost whoops in delight for scoring such money for his day. He walks around the unfamiliar territory, where he almost wonders where the hell could he be. Beacon Hills is his home, yes, but it has been almost too long since he has seen the small community.

He walks carefully around the county, trying to get an idea of his whereabouts. He's sure that the place remains and retains some constructions that remind him of his old home. He passes by the house with his bag in hand, and wanders aimlessly around the community. He would have asked the people around here, but he's adamant that he does things himself before asking for help under dire circumstances.

He sees a police department car passing by, and his mind instantly clicks to where Stiles could possibly be or at least a connection that Stiles can go to and find. He has said that his father is the sheriff of Beacon Hills, and Derek concludes that it's the best clue he's got. He follows the police cruiser, and hopes that it will lead either to the town or just the sheriff's office or somewhere that Derek's mind is unable to wrack his mind properly.

He reaches an area where buildings and edifices stand strong. He walks to it and gives a sigh of relief when he sees civilizations. Not that the neighborhood is civilization enough but he's just a tad nervous that the entire place is bereft of people. Searching for Stiles can take up the whole day and he wonders how the hell will he be able to find him if he goes on with the solo search party.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and dials Laura's number. He crosses his fingers, hoping that the older sister will at least hear him calling.

"Hello?" replies Laura after a few rings.

"Laura," says Derek, "Where are you?"

**~RETURN~**

Stiles watches his dad enjoying the burger that he'd ordered and scoffs at him for being such a pig over meat. It's a no wonder that he's father is debarred from consuming such food. He takes his curly fry into his mouth and chews it slowly while watching the outside of the car window. It's almost a tradition that the two will eat in the car, not giving mind that the two will stink the jeep with the scent of fried assortments. The scent will disappear yeah, but at least the moment the two eats in there won't. Not for a long time, no.

He watches the people walking by the entire place with their satisfied looks as they hold their take outs in their hands. He could relate that feeling, that's for sure. He doesn't have to feel pressured about having to feel embarrassed whenever he buys food from the fast food outlets, because, hey, everyone loves those kinds of food.

He crumples the paper bag before alighting the vehicle. He goes out to take the trash out when he sees a familiar face in the streets of Beacon Hills. "Laura?" he mutters to himself. "Laura!" he repeats, unable to believe his eyes when he sees the familiar face. She turns and her eyes widen when she sees the young man jogging up to her.

"Stiles," she says, her voice sounding surprised, "What are you doing here?" she's about to enter her car, but she seems extremely relaxed at the sight of Stiles.

"I decided to leave New York," he states simply.

"Wait, you're not here with Derek?" she asks confusedly.

"Derek?" he asks back, "No, I came back alone. Why, what's going on?"

Laura blinks at him with a perplexed look, "Because he's here, Stiles. He just called me to pick him up like just a few blocks away,"

**~RETURN~**

Stiles and Laura drive all the way to Derek's location, but not without him telling his dad of his unexpected task. His father nods back at him, although Stiles couldn't help but feel contrite at the sudden appearance of Derek. He promises his dad that he'll make it up for it, to which his dad gave a cheeky response that he will have a barbecue for him. Stiles reluctantly agrees with his dad, but he's probably going to take a really long while to let that slide.

Laura drives with focus, and Stiles wonders why would Derek go all the way here to Beacon Hills. "I mean, he just got engaged with Paige," he says.

"Paige Krasikeva?" asks Paige, "Thought they broke up,"

"They were, but then she came back about some engagement that your parents and hers signed back a few years ago,"

"Ah, that thing. Didn't think she'll actually go through it," she says with a hard expression.

"You knew?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, everyone in our family except Derek knew about it. We didn't need to think about telling him coz boy, that time, Derek was really different. Head over heels for Paige, I tell you. But then again, seeing him moving on to you, is also something I'm not surprised,"

Stiles doesn't reply anymore, notably because he's not really into asking about Derek's shift of personality. They've broken up, what else is there for him to say? He can't just simply plan to rub the engagement in his face now, would he? They finally reached the place Derek has asked Laura to pick him up and he watches as Derek picks up his bag and walks to the vehicle. He stops when he sees Stiles in the car, with an impassive expression.

"I think you should go and talk to him. Get his bag, I'll hold it for him," says Laura. Stiles unbuckles his seatbelt before leaving the vehicle. Laura watches the two relaying the order that she has asked him to do, and she sees Derek giving his bag to him, to which Stiles brings it to the car. She gives a wave at Stiles before driving off somewhere the two have no idea where.

**~RETURN~**

The two sit in the diner, with them ordering a milkshake each and stare at each other in silence. Stiles is trying to read him, gaging him of intention for returning here for considering he has history here. Derek stares at him too, but not as strong as Stiles' gaze. He seems uncomfortable of both the stare and the silence, and wonders who will be the first to speak.

With the slow music only playing in the background, Derek finally decides to break the ice, "I left Paige," Stiles' gaze doesn't change, and he breathes in when he hears the words coming out of Derek's lips, "I confessed. That I was in love with you and her parents made a bet,"

"A bet?" asks Stiles, "I'm not following,"

"Paige's parents made a bet on whether or not I have feelings for Paige, and sure enough Paige's mother won," The two stay silent at the unexpected gamble, and Stiles couldn't help but laugh at the fact that they would actually pull of such bet. Derek shakes his head with a smile, his eyes looking at the window with amusement in his eyes. At least things are becoming relaxed now.

"Come on," says Stiles, "You can walk me home," the two stand up, not really caring if both have finished their libations. They walk home, and both really appreciate the silence of Beacon Hills, "This is so much better than New York," he muses.

"Yeah," he says whilst locking his finger with Stiles as they kept walking, "It really is,"

**~RETURN~**

"So, who's this?" asks Stiles' dad. Stiles looks at Derek. He too wonders what should he call Derek considering the small reunion that everything has happened.

"Derek," he replies simply, "My boyfriend, I guess,"

"You guess?" asks Derek and Stiles' dad in unison. Stiles chuckles at the two, his cheeks growing a slight tinge of pink when they question his conclusion.

"Hey, I don't know, alright? We just got back together," retorts Stiles with a laugh, "He's my boyfriend," he corrects, "Who's actually from here; who's also from New York; who also got out of some crazy engagement; who is grumpy as a Sourwolf,,"

"I'll take him upstairs," offers Derek politely to the sheriff. Stiles continues to ramble off hyperactively and incessantly, and his dad seems to agree that Stiles should keep his mouth zipped.

"You do that, son," he replies. Derek ushers the younger man upstairs, "And here I thought, I'd be happy about him being back," he says whilst running his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you for the continuous support every reader has given me, and I know what you're all thinking, what kind of ending is this? I know, I know; it's not the best ending but come on, it's a romance and humor (more to humor) genre, and different from the usual cliché where I thought a kiss to the lips would be a fitting ending. So... Sorry not sorry, I guess?
> 
> Now, I know people are wondering, what about Scott and Isaac? I did say I have reservations for them, so I will begin writing a story for them which will probably take time to write. I will focus on The Meadow and Repayment - this one too will probably end first.
> 
> I will give an author's note when I got the story done or at least the first chapter done.


End file.
